"If some people had troubles like this, they would have room to preach," she cried.
"I'm sure I never thought of preaching," returned Laura stiffly. "But there's no use always harping on one's own trials and thinking nobody else has any!"
"Meaning me, of course! Anyway, I don't care to play this afternoon. I think I'll go home," said Ivy, turning away with crimsoning cheeks.
Laura gave a backward glance at the haughty little maid hurrying along as fast as she could, while the wind sent the mop of curls flying around her head in all directions.
For a few moments she stared blankly down the street, half expecting Ivy to turn around, but she failed to do so, and Laura, with a heightened sense of injury, went on her way intending to take the first side-street home.
But the longer the distance grew between herself and Ivy, the unhappier she became, the more she repented her harsh words. It was really no wonder that Ivy had thought them unfeeling at a time, especially, when she was already upset by her encounter with Lafe. Perhaps, too, this was one of Ivy's bad days when the least contradiction irritated her.
In this strain ran Laura's thoughts and the longer she pondered, the slower she walked until at last she came to a standstill.
It was right at the top of a hilly street which commanded a fine view. In the distance were the blue shadows of mountains; the river swept along between green-verdured hills; a steamboat with lowered stacks was passing beneath the bridge that hung like a black line connecting the east and west sides of the town. Overhead shone the midday sun in a sky of cloudless blue, but nature spread her canvas all in vain for Laura. Another time she would have paused to drink in the beauty of the scene, to follow with admiring eyes the movements of the boat which, brave in a new coat of paint, swept along in a wake of billowing foam, but to-day she stood unheeding. All that she saw was the pathetic figure of a little girl with crutches receding in the distance.
Something clutched at Laura's throat. Her resentment against Ivy died away, leaving only blame for herself. With a sudden resolve she turned and hurriedly retraced her steps.
"Nothing but a cross cat would act the way I did!"