"Would you like to go quite close and look at it, children?" Marise
asked her own brood.

The little boys stepped forward at once, curiously, but Elly said, "No,
oh _no!_" and backed off till she stood leaning against Touclé's knee.
The old woman put her dark hand down gently on the child's soft hair and
smiled at her. How curious it was to see that grim, battered old visage
smile! Elly was the only creature in the world at whom the old Indian
ever smiled, indeed almost the only thing in the house which those
absent old eyes ever seemed to see. Marise remembered that Touclé had
smiled when she first took the baby Elly in her arms.

* * * * *

A little murmur of talk arose now, from the assembled neighbors. They
stood up, moved about, exchanged a few laconic greetings, and began
putting their wraps on. Marise remembered that Mr. Welles had seemed
tired and as soon as possible set her party in motion.

"Thank you so much, Nelly, for letting us know," she said to the
farmer's wife, as they came away. "It wouldn't seem like a year in our
valley if we didn't see your cereus in bloom."

She took Elly's hand in one of hers, and with Mark on the other side
walked down the path to the road. The darkness was intense there,
because of the gigantic pine-tree which towered above the little house.
"Are you there, Paul?" she called through the blackness. The little
boy's voice came back, "Yes, with Touclé, we're ahead." The two men
walked behind.