A letter from her mother brightened things a little the next morning. It was full of interesting news, of going to the theatre, of the church sale, and of Charity and her perplexities over her school work. But what sunshine the letter brought was clouded by the last message: “Give my love to Scip.”
And she would never speak to him again!
She held to her resolve and stayed indoors after dinner; but at four o’clock, when Scipio surely would not be there, she ran up to her house among the pines. Someone had visited it before her. The cones were brushed away, leaving the floor as she liked to have it, and in the tin can that served as a vase were strange wild flowers, the blossoms of the pitcher-plant. How wonderful they were with their streaked leaves! She had never seen them before.
Near the flowers was a piece of old paper in which something was wrapped. Looking, Hazel found bright birds’ feathers: blue quills from the jay, black iridescent crow’s feathers and the rose-colored quills of the cardinal. Someone must have been collecting them for a long time.
Hazel counted the feathers, drew them, one after another, across her cheek, feeling their soft surfaces, played a little with the flowers and then gathering the offerings together, carried them soberly home. In her room she pulled the little trunk out from under the bed and placed the feathers carefully in the tray. Then she locked the trunk, and pushed it back in its place. Her precious possessions were safe.
She had received many presents in her short life, but they had all been bought with money. These gifts showed the patient toil by which they had been purchased. She was glad she had gone to the pines; she would accept Scipio’s silent message and play with him again, to-morrow.
Granny came in from the garden where she had been at work. “It’s going to rain, sugar,” she called. “We’d best build up the fire.”
“Is my kitten indoors?” Hazel asked anxiously, and ran down the road to find it playing among some dry branches.
When she returned, the kitten in her arms, the drops were already falling, and in a little time the shower had settled into a steady downpour.
“The rain will refresh the earth,” said Granny wisely. “All the world will shine beautiful to-morrow.”