Courtland stood still and gazed at her in wonder and admiration. Was
this the sad, pale girl he had sent West to save her life? Why, she was
a beauty, and she looked as if she had never been ill in her life! He
could scarcely bear to take his eyes from her face long enough to get
into the front seat with Father Marshall.
As for Mother Marshall, nothing could be more satisfactory than the way
she looked like her picture, with those calm, peaceful eyes and that
tendency to a dimple in her cheek where a smile would naturally come.
Apple-cheeked, silver-haired, and plump. She was just ideal!
That was a gay ride they had, all talking and laughing excitedly in
their happiness at being together. It was so good to Mother Marshall to
see another pair of strong young shoulders there beside Father on the
front seat again!
It was Mother Marshall who took him up to Stephen's room herself when
they reached the nice old rambling farm-house set in the wide, white,
snowy landscape. Father Marshall had taken the car to the barn, and
Bonnie was hurrying the dinner on the table.
Courtland entered the room as if it had been a sacred place, and looked
around on the plain comfort: the home-made rugs, the fat, worsted
pincushion, the quaint old pictures on the walls, the bookcase with its
rows of books; the big white bed with its quilted counterpane of
delicate needlework, the neat marble-topped washstand with its speckless
appointments and its wealth of large old-fashioned towels.
Pages:
306
307
308
309
310
311
312
313
314
315
316
317
318
319
320
321
322
323
324
325
326
327
328
329
330