Yet as her mind went over and over these things, her little slippered feet led the march. Eric was not awkward, and he fell easily into the step.
"How nicely we do it together," he said, and beamed down on her, and because her heart was really a kind little heart and a womanly one, she smiled up at him and tried to be as fine and friendly as she would have wanted her children to be.
After the dance, the young folks played old-fashioned games—"Going to Jerusalem" and "Post Office." Anne fled to the settle when the last game was announced. Peggy was moping among the cushions.
"Let me take you up to bed, dearie."
"No, I won't. I want to stay here."
The fun was fast and furious. Anne had a little shivery feeling as she watched the girls go out into the hall and come back blushing. How could they give so lightly what seemed to her so sacred? A woman's lips were for her lover.
She sat very still among the cushions. The fire roared up the chimney. Outside the wind blew; far away in the distance a dog barked.
The barking dog was young Toby. At the heels of his master he was headed straight for the long low house and the grateful shelter of its warmth.
Richard stood for a moment on the porch, looking in through the lighted window. A romping game was in full progress. This time it was "Drop the Handkerchief" and a plump and pretty girl was having a tussle with her captor. Everybody was shouting, clapping. Everybody? On an old settle by the fire sat a slim girl in a white gown. Peggy lay in the curve of her arm, and she was looking down at Peggy.
Richard laughed a big laugh. He could not have told why he laughed, but he flung the door open, and stood there radiant.