"It comes from out there," she says, surprised that I didn't know.
"From out there?"
"Oh, out there where all the things are you can feel but can't see. There's lots of things out there."
I sat quiet, for all of a sudden I knew plain as day that she thought she was feeling what everybody else in the world felt. She hadn't any idea she was different.
"You know," she said, "how it is when you sit quiet, you know it's there—something good, it floods all over you. It's like people you love make you feel, only more. Just like something beautiful that can get right inside your heart!"
Now this may seem queer to you, for Moira was only a little girl of twelve, but there was a look on her face of just sheer, wonderful love, the way you see a girl look sometimes, or a young mother. It was so beautiful that it brought tears to my eyes. That was the last time I worried about Moira for a long time, for, think I, anything as beautiful as that is holy even if it ain't regular.
I told Mis' MacFarland about our talk.
"What do you think she means when she says 'her good'? Is it like feeling God's near?" I asked. She shook her head.
"I don't believe it," she said. "It's more human than that. I think it's someone out there that Moira loves—"
"How you talk!" I said. "Someone out there! If you keep on like this you'll be fey, as my old grandmother used to call it."