"They're better than I can wear. I'd like to know where she gets
the money."
Then a look from one to the other--a look of fateful import, soon
to travel far, and loose a hundred tongues. That moment the bowl
was broken, but the weird sisters knew not the truth.
She that was called Lize, put up her knitting and rose from her
chair.
"There's work waiting for me at home," said she.
"Quilting?"
"No; I'm working on a shroud."
XXXVI
The Law's Approval
Trove had come to Hillsborough that very hour he passed the Golden
Spool. In him a touch of dignity had sobered the careless eye of
youth. He was, indeed, a comely young man, his attire fashionable,
his form erect. Soon he was on the familiar road to Robin's Inn.
There was now a sprinkle of yellow in the green valley; wings of
azure and of gray in the sunlight; a scatter of song in the
silence. High on distant hills, here and there, was a little bank
of snow. These few dusty rags were all that remained of the great
robe of winter. Men were sowing and planting. In the air was an
odour of the harrowed earth, and up in the hills a shout of
greeting came out of field or garden as Trove went by.
It was a walk to remember, and when he had come near the far side
of Pleasant Valley he could see Polly waving her hand to him at the
edge of the maple grove.
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