She turned and went back into her own house.

Her gray head appeared a second beside her window, then sank out of sight.
She was kneeling there with her Bible at her side, a sudden sweet humility of thankfulness rising from her whole spirit like a perfume, when Fanny, with Eva following, still clinging to the child's little hand over her sister's shoulder, went across the yard to her own house to tell her husband.

The others followed, and stood about outside, listening with curiosity sanctified by intensest sympathy.

One nervous-faced boy leaped on the slant of the bulkhead to peer in a window of the sitting-room, and when his mother pulled him back forcibly, rubbed his grimy little knuckles across his eyes, and a dark smooch appeared on his nose and cheeks.

He was a young boy, very small and thin for his age.