When she reached the cross-street where the Atkinses lived Abby and Maria came running out.

“My land, Ellen Brewster,” said Abby, half angrily, “if you don’t look real happy!  I believe you are glad to go to work in a shoe-shop!”

Ellen laughed.  Maria said nothing, but she pressed close to her as she walked along.  She was coughing a little in the east wind.  There had been a drop of twenty degrees in the night, and these drops of temperature in New England mean steps to the tomb.

“You make me mad,” said Abby.  Her voice broke a little.  She dashed her hand across her eyes angrily.  “Here’s Granville Joy,” said she; “you’ll be in the same room with him, Ellen.”  She said it maliciously.  Distress over her friend made her fairly malicious.

Ellen colored.  “You are hard to talk to,” said she, in a low voice, for Granville was coming nearer, gaining on them from behind.

“She don’t mean it,” whispered Maria.

When Granville caught up with them, Ellen pressed so close to Maria that he was forced to walk with Abby or pass on.  She returned his “Good-morning,” then did not look at him again.  Presently Willy Jones appeared, coming so imperceptibly that he seemed almost impossible.

“Where did he come from?” whispered Ellen to Maria.

“Hush,” replied Maria; “it’s this way ’most every morning.  All at once he comes, and he generally walks with me, because he’s afraid Abby won’t want him, but it’s Abby.”

This morning, Willy Jones, aroused, perhaps, to self-assertion by the presence of another man, walked three abreast with Abby and Granville, but on the other side of Granville.  Now and then he peered around the other man at the girl, with soft, wistful blue eyes, but Abby never seemed to see him.  She talked fast, in a harsh, rather loud voice.  She uttered bitter witticisms which made her companions laugh.

“Abby is so bright,” whispered Maria to Ellen, “but I wish she wouldn’t talk so.  Abby doesn’t feel the way I wish she did.  She rebels.  She would be happier if she gave up rebelling and believed.”  Maria coughed as she spoke.

“You had better keep your mouth shut in this east wind, Maria,” her sister called out sharply to her.

“I’m not talking much, Abby,” replied Maria.

Presently Maria looked at Ellen lovingly.  “Do you feel very badly about going to work?” she asked, in a low voice.

“No, not now.  I have made up my mind,” replied Ellen.  The east wind was bringing a splendid color to her cheeks.  She held up her head as she marched along, like one leading a charge of battle.  Her eyes gleamed as with blue fire, her yellow hair sprung and curled around her temples.