bluets more glorious than the most radiant Viennese ballroom.
At the noonday dinner Tom Winslow turned to Phoebe when she sat down across the table from him. “Where is Cherish?”
“Out on a picnic with Silas,” she answered him, reaching for a dish of potatoes and taking a helping.
“Out on a picnic?”
“That’s what I said. They went for a sail and a picnic. Now, would you care to serve yourself a slice or two of the corned beef and pass me the platter?”
“What? Oh, yes.” He stabbed the red slices and put them on his plate, then passed the dish to his sister. They finished serving their plates and bowed their heads to say grace. After taking his first bite, Tom chewed thoughtfully. “I don’t know if I like her hanging around with Silas so much. First down at the boat shop and now picnicking together.”
“Silas is a good boy.”
“She’s tagged after him since she was a little girl, always defending him whenever she’s so much as thought I wasn’t treating him right. Now—” here he gave a grunt of incredulous laughter “—she wants me to think of Silas as my successor.”
“You could do a lot worse,” she answered shortly.
Their cutlery clattered against the china as they ate in silence for a while.
“Still, now that Cherish is home, I want her to start meeting some of the men of her own class. Take that young Townsend. I like that fellow. A real gentleman.”
“The question is, does she like him?” Phoebe asked pointedly, prying open her biscuit with the tip of her knife, the steam escaping in a sheer vapor.
That night Cherish knelt by her bed and prayed. Lord, You know how much I’ve always loved Silas. Only You know. Only You know how long I’ve waited for him. I’ve done everything that was expected of me.
Oh, please, Father, make Silas love me back. Let him love me as I love him. I want him so badly. I feel I shall burst with love for him.
Chapter Four
A fter the Sunday-morning church service, the congregation filed through the entryway, greeting the minister.
“Well, if it isn’t little Cherish Winslow!” Pastor McDuffie took her hand in a hearty handshake. “What a fashionable lady she has become. What do you say, Carrie?” He turned to his wife.
Mrs. McDuffie turned to Cherish with a warm smile. “Welcome back, Cherish. Please forgive us for missing your homecoming. We had to be away that day. We are so happy to have you back in our midst.”
“Thank you. No one is gladder than I am,” she answered.
“Now that you’re back, can we look forward to seeing you with us on Tuesday nights for choir practice? Carrie can certainly use another good singing voice.”
“I would love to come.” She turned to Silas. “You’ll join me, won’t you? We could walk over and back together.”
He fingered his tie. “I’m not much of a singer.”
“Nonsense,” McDuffie contradicted. “You have a fine baritone. I could hear you from the pulpit.”
Cherish smiled at the color creeping up his cheeks. “I hope it didn’t hurt your ears,” he said.
McDuffie laughed. “ Au contraire. I was heartened to hear such a good, strong male voice. Just what we need in our choir.” He leaned over to whisper conspiratorially, “We have a surplus of little old ladies, dear souls, whose voices are becoming a mite quavery. We need some new blood.” He gave them both a last firm handshake. “It’s settled, then, come out Tuesday evenings at seven. Good to have you back, Cherish.”
Silas walked home from church with the Winslows as usual for Sunday dinner. Though he had deliberately slowed his steps to avoid walking with Cherish, he found her at his side.
She was a vision of loveliness. In fact, she had been every day he’d seen her since her return. He was beginning to realize he was looking forward to her appearance each day. Today she wore a yellow dress, with flounces and ruches up and down its skirts. A wide yellow sash, tied low on her hips, swayed in the
At the noonday dinner Tom Winslow turned to Phoebe when she sat down across the table from him. “Where is Cherish?”
“Out on a picnic with Silas,” she answered him, reaching for a dish of potatoes and taking a helping.
“Out on a picnic?”
“That’s what I said. They went for a sail and a picnic. Now, would you care to serve yourself a slice or two of the corned beef and pass me the platter?”
“What? Oh, yes.” He stabbed the red slices and put them on his plate, then passed the dish to his sister. They finished serving their plates and bowed their heads to say grace. After taking his first bite, Tom chewed thoughtfully. “I don’t know if I like her hanging around with Silas so much. First down at the boat shop and now picnicking together.”
“Silas is a good boy.”
“She’s tagged after him since she was a little girl, always defending him whenever she’s so much as thought I wasn’t treating him right. Now—” here he gave a grunt of incredulous laughter “—she wants me to think of Silas as my successor.”
“You could do a lot worse,” she answered shortly.
Their cutlery clattered against the china as they ate in silence for a while.
“Still, now that Cherish is home, I want her to start meeting some of the men of her own class. Take that young Townsend. I like that fellow. A real gentleman.”
“The question is, does she like him?” Phoebe asked pointedly, prying open her biscuit with the tip of her knife, the steam escaping in a sheer vapor.
That night Cherish knelt by her bed and prayed. Lord, You know how much I’ve always loved Silas. Only You know. Only You know how long I’ve waited for him. I’ve done everything that was expected of me.
Oh, please, Father, make Silas love me back. Let him love me as I love him. I want him so badly. I feel I shall burst with love for him.
Chapter Four
A fter the Sunday-morning church service, the congregation filed through the entryway, greeting the minister.
“Well, if it isn’t little Cherish Winslow!” Pastor McDuffie took her hand in a hearty handshake. “What a fashionable lady she has become. What do you say, Carrie?” He turned to his wife.
Mrs. McDuffie turned to Cherish with a warm smile. “Welcome back, Cherish. Please forgive us for missing your homecoming. We had to be away that day. We are so happy to have you back in our midst.”
“Thank you. No one is gladder than I am,” she answered.
“Now that you’re back, can we look forward to seeing you with us on Tuesday nights for choir practice? Carrie can certainly use another good singing voice.”
“I would love to come.” She turned to Silas. “You’ll join me, won’t you? We could walk over and back together.”
He fingered his tie. “I’m not much of a singer.”
“Nonsense,” McDuffie contradicted. “You have a fine baritone. I could hear you from the pulpit.”
Cherish smiled at the color creeping up his cheeks. “I hope it didn’t hurt your ears,” he said.
McDuffie laughed. “ Au contraire. I was heartened to hear such a good, strong male voice. Just what we need in our choir.” He leaned over to whisper conspiratorially, “We have a surplus of little old ladies, dear souls, whose voices are becoming a mite quavery. We need some new blood.” He gave them both a last firm handshake. “It’s settled, then, come out Tuesday evenings at seven. Good to have you back, Cherish.”
Silas walked home from church with the Winslows as usual for Sunday dinner. Though he had deliberately slowed his steps to avoid walking with Cherish, he found her at his side.
She was a vision of loveliness. In fact, she had been every day he’d seen her since her return. He was beginning to realize he was looking forward to her appearance each day. Today she wore a yellow dress, with flounces and ruches up and down its skirts. A wide yellow sash, tied low on her hips, swayed in the
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