"Harry seems to think she means much to you.

Just what is it she means to you ?" For the moment she was desperate in her wondering how to tell it.

And then it happened that from her frenzied wondering what to say of it she sank into the deeper wondering what it _was_.

What it was--what in truth it had been all the time--Ann meant to her.
Why had she done it?
What was that thing less fleeting than fancy, more imperative than sympathy, made Ann mean more than things which had all her life meant most?
Watching Katie, Mrs.Prescott wavered between gratification and apprehension: pleased that that light in Katie's eyes, a finer light than she had ever known there before, should come through thought of this girl for whom Harry cared; troubled by the strangeness and the sternness of Katie's face.
It was Katie herself Mrs.Prescott wanted--had always wanted.

She had always hoped it would be that way, not only because she loved Katie, but because it seemed so as it should be.