Oh, Miss
Frances, it's Christmas! Won't you please make up and--When are we
going to eat?"
Miss Barbour's hand closed over Carmencita's twisting ones, and into
her face again sprang color; then she laughed. "We are very hungry,
Mr. Van Landing. Would you mind sitting down so we can have lunch?"
An hour later Carmencita leaned back in her chair, hands in her lap
and eyes closed. Presently one hand went out. "Don't ask me anything
for a minute, will you? I've got to think about something. When you're
ready to go let me know."
Through the meal Carmencita's flow of words and flow of spirits had
saved the silences that fell, in spite of effort, between Van Landing
and Miss Barbour, and under the quiet poise so characteristic of her
he had seen her breath come unsteadily. Could he make her care for him
again? With eyes no longer guarded he looked at her, leaned forward.
"From here," he said, "where are you going?"
"Home. I mean to Mother McNeil's. Carmencita says you and she have
done my shopping." She smiled slightly and lifted a glass of water to
her lips. "The tree is to be dressed this afternoon, and to-night the
children come.
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