But the dulled eyes and the faded face were only the symptoms of the
real change in Mary Coombe. The thing itself lay deeper. Striving to
express a subtlety which would not lend itself to words, Esther had more
than once told herself that her mother was "not the same woman." Yet it
was only to-day, as she stooped to kiss her, that the startling, literal
truth of the phrase struck home. The outside changes were nothing--it
was the woman herself who had changed.
"Well, Esther!" The sweet high voice with its impatient note was the
same as ever. "Here we are home again. Fancy me forgetting it was
Sunday! Wasn't it funny? We met old MacTavish coming up from the station
(not a single cab down to meet the train, of course!) and he looked so
shocked. Really, this place grows more insufferable every day. It seems
to agree with you, though, you're looking awfully well. Amy looks well,
too. The new doctor must be something of a wonder."
"He is considered very clever. Aunt Amy is certainly better. Now that
you are home you must let him see what he can do for you.
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