"I was just thinking," said Juliet, "it's fun to play with people."
Anna felt her heart give a sudden twist. "Why, you dear, odd little thing," she cried. And taking the child in her arms, she covered the tiny head with kisses. But Juliet drew away.
"I'm not little," she said. "I'm old."
"So am I old," said Anna. She felt the joy run out of her; it left her empty. "I expect everybody in the world is old," she said. She watched her hands move about in the hay like great spiders.
"Is it fun to be old, do you think?" asked Juliet.
"I don't know," said Anna. "I don't expect it is, much."
"Mother is old," said Juliet. "What do old people do?"
Anna looked out through the barn door across the wet fields, the drenched hillsides, shrouded in mist. "I don't know," she said. And she got up to go home.
"Well, good-by," said Juliet.
Just then Mrs. Wicket came in from the road, with a basket on her arm. When she saw Anna standing in front of the barn she grew pink and confused. For she thought that Anna had come to call on her. "Good afternoon," she said. "I was out. I'm real sorry. Won't you come in?"