They come often to a "strange child"--these moments
of vague longing to overhear one's self termed a "pretty child"--
especially on the eve of an important occasion.
But thoughts of that important occasion speedily chased away
consciousness of self. And downstairs in the cheerful dining room,
with the family all gathered round the table, Missy, her cheeks
glowing pink and her big grey eyes ashine, found it difficult to eat
her oatmeal, for very rapture. In the bay window, the geraniums on
the sill nodded their great, biossomy heads at her knowingly.
Beyond, the big maple was stirring its leaves, silver side up, like
music in the breeze. Away across the yard, somewhere, Jeff was
making those busy, restful sounds with the lawn-mower. These
alluring things, and others stretching out to vast mental distances,
quite deadened, for Missy, the family's talk close at hand.
"When I ran over to the Greenleaf's to borrow the sugar," Aunt
Nettie was saying, "May White was there, and she and Helen hurried
out of the dining room when they saw me. I'm sure they'd been
crying, and--"
"S-sh!" warned Mrs.
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