“You have a grandson, Mrs. Goodwin,” I called to her, “and Eve is doing well.”
I know not what she did then—I did not care what she did; for I was still waving my hat. Soon I should be shouting aloud. That would not do, for Eve; and I hurried out at my gate and almost ran Old Goodwin down.
“You have a grandson,” I cried, for the second time; “and Eve is doing well.”
And he made no reply, but smiled and smiled; and I shook him by the hand until he made a face and took his hand away and looked at it. And I did but laugh and push by him.
“Go in,” I said, “go in. Eve is sleeping, and I—I must walk.”
So he went in, and I went on, down the road. At the next corner I met Burdon; and, though I had not spoken to him for years—I have forgot what was the cause of it—I rushed up and took him by the hand. He seemed astonished, as well he might.
“Congratulate me,” I cried; “for I have a son.”
At that he grinned. “Mother doing well?” he asked. “I am glad—very glad.” And he shook my hand with heartiness. I left him, looking after me, and grinning still.
But I went on swiftly, until the houses were all behind me, and before me were the woods and the everlasting hills. Yet a little while I waited—until the woods had shut me in—then I could wait no longer. I waved my hands and shouted to the echoing woods.
“Why hop ye so,” I cried, “ye high hills?” And the hills sent me back my question again. And—well, I am glad that there was no one there to see what I did—they would surely have thought me gone out of my wits. And when I was, in a measure, quieted, I turned me about and went soberly back again; though I was ready enough to laugh if there had been any to laugh with me.