We rose and stumbled along the grassy path that led round the house. At the gate we met Doctor Heron.
"Well," he said slowly, "well." And after a moment, "Will—will any of you be here in the morning?" he asked.
"Yes," we all said simply.
"That's good," he commented shortly, "I didn't know."
We five had to separate at the first corner to go our home ways, and we stood for a moment under the gas-light. I remember how, just then, Peter's father came singing past us, like one of the Friendship family who did not understand his kinship. Even as we five had not understood ours.
"You haven't got a shawl, hev you?" Mis' Sykes said to me solicitously.
"The nights have been some chilly on a person's shoulders for a day or two now," said Mis' Holcomb.
Calliope put her hand up quickly to her throat.
"Quit," she said. "All of you. Thank God. An' shake hands. I tell you, after this I bet I'll run my own feelin's about folks or I'll bring down the sky an' make new feelin's! Oh," said Calliope, "don't her—an' now—an' the baby—an'—oh, an' that bright star winkin' over that hitchin' post, make things seem—easy? Good night. I can't stand out here any longer."
But when we had gone away a few steps, Calliope called us back. And as we turned again,