Amabel laughed out, and her laugh trilled high with a note of silver, above the chatter of the crowd and the blare and rhythmic trill of the orchestra. “I've had an ice-cream, and I'm going to have a new doll and a doll-carriage,” said she. “Oh, Ellen!” She left her father and mother for a second and clung to Ellen, kissing her; then she was back.
“Well, Andrew?” said Jim. He had a shamed face, yet there was something brave in it struggling for expression.
“Well, Jim?” said Andrew.
The two shook hands solemnly. Then they walked on together, and the sisters behind, with Amabel clinging to her mother's hand. “Jim's goin' to work if he has had a little windfall,” said Eva, proudly. “Oh, Fanny, only think what it means!”
“I hope it will be a lesson to both of them,” said Mrs. Zelotes, stalking along after, but she smiled harshly.
“Oh, land, don't croak, if you've got a chance to laugh! There's few enough chances in this world,” cried Eva, with boisterous good humor. “As for me, I've come out of deep waters, and I'm goin' to take what comfort I can in the feel of the solid ground under my feet.” She began to force Amabel into a dance in time with the music, and the child shrieked with laughter.
“S'pose she's all right?” whispered Mrs. Zelotes to Fanny.
“Land, yes,” replied Fanny; “it's just like her, just the way she used to do. It makes me surer than anything else that she's cured.”
The girls behind were loitering. Abby turned to Ellen and pointed to a rustic seat under a clump of birches.
“Let's sit down there a minute, Ellen,” said she.