" When she opened the case
containing that old daguerreotype, she scanned it with a little
distasteful smile, and then glanced up at her own image in the glass,
nodding her head in thankful peace. She was the enduring portrait. In
herself, she might even see her mother grow very old. So the hours
slipped on into dusk, and she sat there with her dream, knowing, though
it was only a dream, how sane it was, and good. When wheels came
rattling into the yard, she awoke with a start, and John's voice,
calling to her in an inexplicable alarm, did not disturb her. She had
had her day. Not all the family fates could take it from her now. John
kept calling, even while his wife and children were climbing down,
unaided, from the great carryall. His voice proclaimed its own story,
and Lucy Ann heard it with surprise.
"Lucy! Lucy Ann!" he cried. "You here? You show yourself, if you're all
right."
Before they reached the front door, Lucy Ann had opened it and stood
there, gently welcoming.
"Yes, here I be," said she. "Come right in, all of ye. Why, if that
ain't Ezra, too, an' his folks, turnin' into the lane. When'd you plan
it?"
"Plan it! we didn't plan it!" said Mary testily. She put her hand on
Lucy Ann's shoulder, to give her a little shake; but, feeling mother's
poplin, she forbore.
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