RACHEL'S SUMMER
69
bath
now, but she said no, she had to come right away, it was very
important. So she came."
I could see Mrs. Kirtle hurrying over from her house, I could
even hear her high little voice on the 'phone, but more than that, I
saw all us kids on our hike and I remembered the very day: the
hot dry road over Asylum Hill and down past the cemetery to the
brook, and how we left the road there, and followed the ))rook
through the fields to our favorite place up further where it was deep
enough to swim.
"Mrs. Kirtle told me her news right off, without prelimi–
naries," Mother went on. "Rachel was in trouble-she said it just
like that. It came so sudden that I couldn't believe it at first or take
it seriously, because Mrs. Kirtle was so excited about it. I said
how can you possibly know any such thing, and she said that M,.-.
Brittain had told her about it and had asked her to tell me-l ought
to know about it, he had said. I began to understand, then, what
she was saying-the seriousness of it, I mean-and asked her to
tell me the whole story. I can't tell you how thankful I was that
you children were away at the time. It's funny, but it seemed I
couldn't wait for Rachel to come back, I would die of anxiety-and
yet I dreaded it too. I knew that when I spoke to Rachel, or even
looked into her eyes, I would know. But you children were away
on your hike, and I had to wait."
I listened to the story and it didn't seem real. Much more real
was the brook and the big willow tree and the enormous snake we
saw there, so big that it seemed it must be Africa, and Rachel said
that it was.
"Mrs. Kirtle had heard the story at the Ladies' Aid," Mother
said. "During their meeting the day ·before, Mr. Brittain came in
and told a couple of the ladies ai::ruut it, saying that somebody
ought to tell Rachel's mother. He asked which one of them knew me
the best, and Mrs. Kirtle said she guessed she did. That's how she
came to me. I never did know who told Mr. Brittain, or how the
story got started in the first place. When I went to him about it that
week, he wouldn't tell me, though I begged him to, and begged him
many times that summer. Mter Rachel was dead, he did come to
see me, but it was too late then and I wouldn't talk to him."
Mother was looking down at her sewing, she didn't once look
at me during the whole story, and my heart jumped with pity as I
recalled that day and knew how it was with her. And all that while,
