far in the direction of overwork. He had been urged to come down here and play golf. Still, he worked long hours. ...
And while I recalled these things, in the back of my head, I kept repeating: "Mother, mother! I am bringing help."
We did not talk, except for my turning suddenly to warn him that my younger sister was not to know if my mother—
"Yes, yes!" he said. I felt he understood. I walked faster–almost at a run. He did not seem to notice. His long strides kept him near me without an effort.
Mother, mother!—
Oh, how wildly the birds were singing! She had said that only we ever noticed the special quality in the vesper song. Something the morning never heard. The air was filled with a passion of that belated singing. "Good-night," I heard her say, "is better than good-morning."
Oh, mother! if that is so for you, think of your children.
Did the stranger object to jumping ditches and climbing stiles?
"I am taking you the short cut," I said.
