Lynette was there, kneeling in front of the toy stove that Eve had sent her for Christmas.
An extraordinary uprush of tenderness carried Eve away. She stood on the edge of the dell and called:
“Lynette! Lynette!”
The child’s hair flashed as she turned sharply. Her face looked up at Eve, wonderingly, mute with surprise. Then she was up and running, her red lips parted, her eyes alight.
“Miss Eve! Miss Eve!”
They met half way, Eve melting towards the running child like the eternal mother-spirit that opens its arms and catches life to its bosom. They hugged and kissed. Lynette’s warm lips thrilled the woman in Eve through and through.
“Oh, my dear, you haven’t forgotten me!”
“I knew—I knew you’d come back again!”
“How did you know?”
“Because I asked God. God must like to do nice things sometimes, and of course, when I kept asking Him——. And now you’ve come back for ever and ever!”