All the way, Edgar sat in front with the colored man and drove.  It was an early spring day in the South.  The fields and woods were heavy from the soaking rains.  The horses dragged the carriage slowly over the long road, sticky with brown clay and rough with masses of stones thrown here and there to be broken and trodden into place by passing teams.  Over and through the soaking earth was the feathery new spring growth of little flowers, of young leaves and of ferns.  The tree tops were all bright with reds and yellows, with brilliant gleaming whites and gorgeous greens.  All the lower air was full of the damp haze rising from heavy soaking water on the earth, mingled with a warm and pleasant smell from the blue smoke of the spring fires in all the open fields.  And above all this was the clear, upper air, and the songs of birds and the joy of sunshine and of lengthening days.

The languor and the stir, the warmth and weight and the strong feel of life from the deep centres of the earth that comes always with the early, soaking spring, when it is not answered with an active fervent joy, gives always anger, irritation and unrest.

To Anna alone there in the carriage, drawing always nearer to the struggle with her mistress, the warmth, the slowness, the jolting over stones, the steaming from the horses, the cries of men and animals and birds, and the new life all round about were simply maddening.  “Baby! if you don’t lie still, I think I kill you.  I can’t stand it any more like this.”

At this time Anna, about twenty-seven years of age, was not yet all thin and worn.  The sharp bony edges and corners of her head and face were still rounded out with flesh, but already the temper and the humor showed sharply in her clean blue eyes, and the thinning was begun about the lower jaw, that was so often strained with the upward pressure of resolve.

To-day, alone there in the carriage, she was all stiff and yet all trembling with the sore effort of decision and revolt.

As the carriage turned into the Wadsmith gate, little Jane ran out to see.  She just looked at Anna’s face; she did not say a word about blue dressings.

Anna got down from the carriage with little Baby in her arms.  She took out all the goods that she had brought and the carriage drove away.  Anna left everything on the porch, and went in to where Miss Mary Wadsmith was sitting by the fire.

Miss Mary was sitting in a large armchair by the fire.  All the nooks and crannies of the chair were filled full of her soft and spreading body.  She was dressed in a black satin morning gown, the sleeves, great monster things, were heavy with the mass of her soft flesh.  She sat there always, large, helpless, gentle.  She had a fair, soft, regular, good-looking face, with pleasant, empty, grey-blue eyes, and heavy sleepy lids.

Behind Miss Mary was the little Jane, nervous and jerky with excitement as she saw Anna come into the room.