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She smiled dimly, and Nan said: "Yes. But I shall come over to the Donnyhills' to-morrow." "Yes," said Tira, "so do. Now I'd better go." They got up and Nan put her hands on Tira's shoulders and one hand was numb from that iron clasp and stood looking at her. Nan was not a kissing woman, but she considered whether she should kiss her, to show she loved her. She thought not.
Raven inquired. Charlotte hesitated. Her brown cheek flushed. "Well," she said, "I never've heard anything ag'inst her, not anything I should be willin' to repeat. You know what they be, there over the mountain. There's the Donnyhills. Good folks, but shif'less! my soul! Though she ain't that." "Called on her, haven't you?" "No," said Charlotte. She wore the flush of resentful matronhood.
I'm goin' to carry them daffies. He didn't have no flowers, the baby didn't. I never thought on't then. But he never had none. He played with a daffy, 'most the last thing. I've got to git 'em over there." "Not to-day, Tira," urged Nan. "You wouldn't get back till after dark." "I shouldn't come back to-night," said Tira. "The Donnyhills were real good to me. They come to the grave.
I bet Old Crow laughed. But Tenney saved me. He took it into his own hands. And what do you think did it? We went down to the house one morning for breakfast, and Charlotte came out to meet us, tying on a clean apron. I was in hopes I never should set eyes on a woman's apron again. The Donnyhills saw him, and at first they thought he knew what he was about, but kept on watching him.
When they turned into the narrow river road, the gray seemed to be there waiting for them, for this was the gorge with the steep cliff on one side and the river on the other, always dark, even at midday, with moss patches on the cliffs and small streams escaping from their fissures and tumbling: always the sound of falling water. "The Donnyhills?" Raven asked. "Don't I remember them?
"I see," said Nan. "Yes, you must walk. I should want to, myself. But in the morning, Tira mayn't I come over after you?" Tira considered, her eyes on Nan's hand and her own clasped, lying on Nan's knee. "Yes," she said, "you better. You come to the Donnyhills'. Yes, you come."
At Mountain Brook. Tira went back to Mountain Brook yesterday afternoon, to carry the baby some flowers" the moment she said this she saw how silly it was and wondered why she had not seen it, why she had been such a fool as not to be frightened sooner. "She said she would spend the night with those Donnyhills." But had Tira thrown in the Donnyhills to keep Nan from being frightened?
Raven was looking up at her, a little smile on his lips, but in his eyes such strange things that Charlotte caught his head to her and held it against her breast. "Yes," he said, "yes, Charlotte, Tira has run away. She went yesterday, over to Mountain Brook. She tried to cross the stepping stones. She's over at the Donnyhills' now. She's going to stay there till she's buried. I'll go and tell him.
And Nan got in and drove on to the Donnyhills'. All that forenoon was a madness of haste and strangeness. It is as well to look at it through the eyes of Nan, for Raven, though he seemed like himself and was a model of crisp action, had no thoughts at all.
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