The plan of going to
the western city had gradually shaped itself, and while Dr. Lavendar
was writing to those friends of his, and Helena corresponding with a
real-estate agent, the packing-up at the Stuffed Animal House had
proceeded. Now it was all done; Maggie and Sarah had had their wages,
and several presents besides; the pony had been shipped from Mercer;
the rabbits boxed and sent down to the Rectory; all was done;--except
the saying good-by to David. But Helena told herself that she would
not say good-by to him. She could not, she said. She would see him,
but he should not know it was good-by. And so she asked Dr. Lavendar
to send the child up to her the day before she was to go away;--by
himself. "You'll trust him with me for an hour?" she said.
She meant to cuddle the child, and give him the "forty kisses" which,
at last, he was ready to accept, and let him chatter of all his
multitudinous interests. Then she would send him away, and begin her
empty life. The page which had held a promise of joy, would be turned
over; a new, dreary chapter, with no promise in it, would begin....
David came in the afternoon. He was a little late, and explained his
tardiness by saying that he had found a toad, and tying a string
around its waist, had tried to play horse with it, up the hill. "But
he wouldn't drive," David said disgustedly; "maybe he was a lady toad;
I don't know.
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