Chapter 69

IT was quieter than ever at Sarn without Mother’s quiet ways. I missed her a deal more than if I’d depended on her, for it’s the folk that depend on us for this and for the other that we most do miss. So the mother is more let and hindered lacking the little creatures clinging to her skirt than she is when they be there, for she has no heart for her work. So in the lengthening April days I’d often sit and cry, calling to mind her poor little hands uplifted, and her way of giving me a right good welcome when I came …