“I felt so joyful,” said Colin, opening his beautiful strange eyes at her.  “Suddenly I felt how different I was—­how strong my arms and legs were, you know—­and how I could dig and stand—­and I jumped up and wanted to shout out something to anything that would listen.”

“Th’ Magic listened when tha’ sung th’ Doxology.  It would ha’ listened to anything tha’d sung.  It was th’ joy that mattered.  Eh! lad, lad—­what’s names to th’ Joy Maker,” and she gave his shoulders a quick soft pat again.

She had packed a basket which held a regular feast this morning, and when the hungry hour came and Dickon brought it out from its hiding place, she sat down with them under their tree and watched them devour their food, laughing and quite gloating over their appetites.  She was full of fun and made them laugh at all sorts of odd things.  She told them stories in broad Yorkshire and taught them new words.  She laughed as if she could not help it when they told her of the increasing difficulty there was in pretending that Colin was still a fretful invalid.

“You see we can’t help laughing nearly all the time when we are together,” explained Colin.  “And it doesn’t sound ill at all.  We try to choke it back but it will burst out and that sounds worse than ever.”

“There’s one thing that comes into my mind so often,” said Mary, “and I can scarcely ever hold in when I think of it suddenly.  I keep thinking suppose Colin’s face should get to look like a full moon.  It isn’t like one yet but he gets a tiny bit fatter every day—­and suppose some morning it should look like one—­what should we do!”

“Bless us all, I can see tha’ has a good bit o’ play actin’ to do,” said Susan Sowerby.  “But tha’ won’t have to keep it up much longer.  Mester Craven’ll come home.”

“Do you think he will?” asked Colin.  “Why?”

Susan Sowerby chuckled softly.

“I suppose it ‘ud nigh break thy heart if he found out before tha’ told him in tha’ own way,” she said.  “Tha’s laid awake nights plannin’ it.”

“I couldn’t bear any one else to tell him,” said Colin.  “I think about different ways every day.  I think now I just want to run into his room.”

“That’d be a fine start for him,” said Susan Sowerby.  “I’d like to see his face, lad.  I would that!  He mun come back—­that he mun.”

One of the things they talked of was the visit they were to make to her cottage.  They planned it all.  They were to drive over the moor and lunch out of doors among the heather.  They would see all the twelve children and Dickon’s garden and would not come back until they were tired.

Susan Sowerby got up at last to return to the house and Mrs. Medlock.  It was time for Colin to be wheeled back also.  But before he got into his chair he stood quite close to Susan and fixed his eyes on her with a kind of bewildered adoration and he suddenly caught hold of the fold of her blue cloak and held it fast.