She passed on, and laying Hope in the bottom of the wagon, harnessed the horse with swift, shaking hands. The sun was out of sight when she drove back to the house. Nettie sat on the steps staring dazedly around her. Blake was not in sight.
“Are you ready?” Charlotte called.
He came out, carrying an old handbag. At the step he hesitated.
She pointed to the back seat, where he was to sit with Nettie and the child, and after an instant he helped them in.
The ride was long and cold. Night fell, and the stars came out in remote, hostile legions. The children slept. Occasionally Nettie and Blake advised together in hushed voices. Charlotte whipped the horse.
As they drew near to the end of their journey Blake leaned forward and touched her arm.
“What about the store?” he asked.
Charlotte broke her long silence harshly. “Your stock will cover what you owe on it, I guess.”
At the station she stayed in the wagon. Blake took his wife and Dorcas into the waiting-room and came back for his bag. Charlotte had it ready for him, resting on the wheel.
He did not offer to take it at first, but stood in the beam from the station window, trying to speak.