She
did not know that Joel Atterbury had said to John that day, "I take it all
back, old man, and I hope you'll stay on in the firm!" nor that Aunt Louisa,
who was putting stiff, short-stemmed chrysanthemums in cups and tumblers here
and there through the house, was much more flexible and human than was natural
to her; nor that John, alternating between hope and despair, was forever
humming:
"Set her place at hearth and board
As it used to be:
Higher are the hills of home,
Bluer is the sea!"
It is often so. They who go weeping to look for the dead body of a sorrow,
find a vision of angels where the body has lain.
"I hope Fardie'Il be glad to see us and Ellen will have gingerbread," Sue
chattered; then, pausing at the window, she added, "I'm sorry to leave the
hills, 'cause I'specially like them, don't you, Mardie?"
"We are leaving the Shaker hills, but we are going to the hills of home," her
mother answered cheerily. "Don't you remember the Farnham hills, dear?"
"Yes, I remember," and Sue looked thoughtful; "they were farther off and
covered with woods; these are smooth and gentle. And we shall miss the lake,
Mardie."
"Yes; but we can look at the blue sea from your bedroom window, Sue!"
"And we'll tell Fardie about Polly Reed and the little quail bird, won't we?"
"Yes; but he and Jack will have a great deal to say to us, and we must n't
talk all the time about the dear, kind Shakers, you know!"
"You're all '_buts_,' Mardie!" at which Susanna smiled through her tears.
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