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"She has something to be vain about," retorted Susan. "She is the prettiest girl in Glen St. Mary. Do you think that all those over-harbour MacAllisters and Crawfords and Elliotts could scare up a skin like Rilla's in four generations? They could not. No, Mrs. Dr. dear, I know my place but I cannot allow you to run down Rilla. Listen to this, Mrs. Marshall Elliott."
A momentary break in the whirling throng gave her a glimpse of Kenneth Ford standing at the other side. Rilla's heart skipped a beat or, if that be a physiological impossibility, she thought it did. So he was here, after all. She had concluded he was not coming not that it mattered in the least. Would he see her? Would he take any notice of her?
Rilla knew the woman by sight and reputation. Her name was Mrs. Conover; she lived down at the fishing village; she was a great-aunt of Mrs. Anderson; and she drank as well as smoked. Rilla's first impulse was to turn and flee. But that would never do. Perhaps this woman, repulsive as she was, needed help though she certainly did not look as if she were worrying over the lack of it.
"Oh, but you do get a lot of fun out of the thinking," cried Rilla. "You think of nothing but fun, you monkey," said Miss Oliver indulgently, reflecting that Rilla's chin was really the last word in chins. "Well, what else is fifteen for? But have you any notion of going to college this fall?" "No nor any other fall. I don't want to.
The fierce flame of agony had burned itself out and the grey dust of its ashes was over all the world. Rilla's younger life recovered physically sooner than her mother. For weeks Mrs. Blythe lay ill from grief and shock. Rilla found it was possible to go on with existence, since existence had still to be reckoned with. There was work to be done, for Susan could not do all.
The latter had come over from Lowbridge the previous evening and had been prevailed upon to remain for the dance at the Four Winds lighthouse the next night. "The new day is knocking at the window. What will it bring us, I wonder." Miss Oliver shivered a little. She never greeted the days with Rilla's enthusiasm. She had lived long enough to know that a day may bring a terrible thing.
"Oh, hear us when we cry to Thee For those in peril on the sea," Rilla's voice always failed her; for with the words came a horribly vivid mind picture of a submarined ship sinking beneath pitiless waves amid the struggles and cries of drowning men. Then word came that Kenneth's regiment had arrived safely in England; and now, at last, here was his letter.
"It seems just the other day that you were all babies," said Susan, ignoring Rilla's protest. "You were really the prettiest baby I ever saw, Ken, though your mother had an awful time trying to cure you of sucking your thumb. Do you remember the day I spanked you?" "No," said Ken.
Rilla felt as if her feet and her soul both had wings. Rilla's first party was a triumph or so it seemed at first. She had so many partners that she had to split her dances. Her silver slippers seemed verily to dance of themselves and though they continued to pinch her toes and blister her heels that did not interfere with her enjoyment in the least.
This will kill mother look at her face, Miss Oliver, and you will see that. And Faith poor Faith how can she bear it?" Gertrude shivered with pain. She looked up at the pictures hanging over Rilla's desk and felt a sudden hatred of Mona Lisa's endless smile. "Will not even this blot it off your face?" she thought savagely. But she said gently, "No, it won't kill your mother.
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