Chapter Forty Two.
“I want to know! Now do tell; if there ain’t mother standing at the gate, and opening it for us, too,” exclaimed Mr Snow, in astonishment and delight. “That is the farthest she’s been yet, and it begins to look a little like getting well, now, don’t it?”
“I hope nothing has happened,” said Rose, a little anxiously.
“I guess not—nothing to fret over. Her face don’t look like it. Well, mother, you feel pretty smart to-night, don’t you? You look first-rate.”
“I am just as usual,” said Mrs Snow, quietly. “But what has kept you so long? We were beginning to wonder about you.”
“Has anything happened?” said Rose, looking over Mrs Snow’s head, at a little crowd of people coming out at the door.
“We have visitors, that is all. The minister is here, and a friend of yours—your brother Harry’s partner. He has brought news—not bad news, at least he doesna seem to think so, nor Miss Graeme. I have hardly heard it myself, yet, or seen the young man, for I was tired and had to lie down. But you’ll hear it yourself in due time.”
Rose reined her horse aside.
“Take care, dear,” said Mrs Snow, as she sprung to the ground without assistance. “There is no need for such haste. You might have waited for Sandy or some one to help you, I think.”
“What is it, Graeme?” said Rose, for her sister looked flashed and excited, and there were traces of tears on her cheeks she was sure. But she did not look anxious—certainly not unhappy.