But they paused yet a moment, stopping as if by a common instinct to look at the white cross. Susan Stoddard gazed down on it with a grief in her eyes that was the more heartbreaking because it was inarticulate. Agatha remembered the doctor's words, and understood something of the friction that could exist between this evangelistic sister and the finer, more intellectual brother.
"I've never been inside the old red house since he died," said Mrs. Stoddard.
"I'm sorry!" cried Agatha. "It is hard for you to come there, I know."
"He maketh the rough places plain," chanted Susan Stoddard. "Hercules was a good brother and a good man!"
Agatha laid her arm about the older woman's shoulder, and thus was led out to Little Simon's buggy. Susan helped her in, and Agatha leaned back, with closed eyes, indifferent to the beauty of early afternoon on a cool summer's day. Little Simon let her ride in quiet, but landed her in the dust on the opposite side of the road from the lilac bushes.
"Those trees!" said Doctor Thayer's voice, as he came out to meet her. "How did you make out with Susan?"
"She's coming," said Agatha. "Is your patient any better?"
"I don't think he's any worse," answered the doctor dubiously, "but I'm glad Susan's coming. I'd be glad to know how you got round her."
Agatha paused a moment before replying, "I wrestled with her."
The doctor smiled grimly, "I've known the wrestling to come out the other way."