But to Lucy it was a moment of intense chagrin and embarrassment.  During the long silence of the past year she had persuaded herself that Redding no longer cared for her.  To be thrust upon him in this way was intolerable.  All the blood in her veins rushed to her face.

“Do you know where my muff is, Mrs. Wiggs?” she asked, after a formal greeting.

“Oh! you ain’t a-goin’?” asked the hostess, anxiously.  “I wanted you all to git acquainted.”

“Yes, I must go,” said Lucy, hurriedly, “if you will find my muff.”

She stood nervously pulling on her gloves, while Mrs. Wiggs searched for the lost property.  There was a deafening tumult in her heart, and though she bit her lips to keep from laughing, the tears stood in her eyes.

“Austry’s under the bed,” announced Europena, who had joined in the quest.

“I ain’t!” came in shrill, indignant tones, as Mrs. Wiggs dragged forth the culprit, and restored the muff.

“May I drive you over to the avenue?  I am going that way.”  It was Redding’s voice, but it sounded queer and unnatural.

“Oh, no!  No, thank you,” gasped Lucy, hardly knowing what she said.  Her one idea was to get away before she broke down completely.

Redding held the door open as she passed out.  His face was cold, calm, inscrutable; not a quiver of the mouth, not a flutter of the lids, but the light went out of his eyes and hope died in his heart.

Mrs. Wiggs stood watching the scene in perplexity.

“I dunno what ailed Miss Lucy,” she said, apologetically; “hope it wasn’t the toothache.”

CHAPTER IX

HOW SPRING CAME TO THE CABBAGE PATCH

    “The roads, the woods, the heavens, the hills
    Are not a world to-day—­
    But just a place God made for us
    In which to play.”

When the last snow of the winter had melted, and the water was no longer frozen about the corner pump, the commons lost their hard, brown look, and a soft green tinge appeared instead.  There were not many ways of telling when spring came to the Cabbage Patch; no trees shook forth their glad little leaves of welcome, no anemones and snow-drops brought the gentle message, even the birds that winged their way from the South-land hurried by, without so much as a chirp of greeting.

But the Cabbage Patch knew it was spring, nevertheless; something whispered it in the air, a dozen little signs gave the secret away; weeds were springing up in the fence corners, the puddles which a few months ago were covered with ice now reflected bits of blue sky, and the best token of all was the bright, warm sunshine that clung to the earth as if to love it back into beauty and life again.

One afternoon Mrs. Wiggs stood at her gate talking to Redding.  It was the first time he had been there since Christmas day, for his first visit had been too painful for him to desire to repeat it.