“It’s a silly extravagance,” said Mary. (The words and the opinion belonged to her mother.) “Blue serge will do till Father gets the fall election.”
But, to the surprise of all, the call to blue serge was not forthcoming. They heard the draft of the stove opened, and smelt the crisp, luscious odor of well-cooked meat and of freshly baked bread. They heard their mother’s quick, sure steps going from kitchen to dining-room and back again. Mary and Cynthia exchanged puzzled glances. Neither could remember a time when they had not been called in to help with the last things about the table.
“For, even if we’re not needed, what about the discipline?” thought Mary.
The petals from the orchard trees beyond the driveway drifted through the warm, bright air like great, lazy snowflakes. A pair of bluebirds circled about in the white fragrance and in the drowsy murmur of bees.
And then Roger from the top of the gatepost gave a shout. He had seen his father’s hat just topping the hill that led from the village.
“They’re coming—whoever it is!” he cried.
II
A BLUE GINGHAM AND AN ANCIENT LAND
THEY were coming! They topped the hill; they passed the academy with its white columns and ancient date in gilded figures; they passed the Blodgett house, within which Miss Sarah Blodgett peered from the sidelights of the front entrance, mistrust and amazement in her sharp face; they passed the church with its green shutters and westward-pointing weathercock; they passed the crossroads where Pleasant Street saunters across Maple; they entered upon that long stretch of elm-shaded gravel walk, which, quite unimpaired by other houses, leads to the Wescott gate. Still the four Wescotts by that gate said not one word or made the slightest move toward going to meet their father. Indeed, they were quite too busily engaged in trying to set their mental houses to rights to do anything but stare. And stare they did!
Their father was coming up the street, laden with a huge and shining black bag or pack, which he carried most awkwardly by means of bands across one shoulder. By his side walked the strangest person the four Wescotts had ever seen. She was tall, and the queer folds of her black dress gave place above the waist to a velvet bodice of the same color, only laced with gold cord that tied at the throat. Her sleeves were full and white, and their edges of lace fell almost over her dark, long-fingered hands. They could see that her hair was as black and shining as her bodice or as the covering of her great bundle, for the handkerchief of red silk which had once covered it had fallen back and lay on her shoulders. They saw, too, the gold coins, suspended in tiny rings of gold, that hung from her ears, and the string of great red stones around her neck. Then, as she came nearer and they stared more breathlessly than ever, Roger at the coins, John at the necklace, Cynthia and Mary at the gold-laced bodice and peculiar sleeves, they saw that she had soft, dark eyes such as they had never seen before—eyes which, they somehow all at once knew, had looked upon things unfamiliar and far away.
At the gate their father recalled them to their senses.