It was in honour of Sara's home-coming--so Old Man Shaw liked to fancy.
All things, even the sulky rose-bush, knew she was coming back,
and were making glad because of it.
He was gloating over Sara's letter when Mrs. Peter Blewett came.
She told him she had run up to see how he was getting on,
and if he wanted anything seen to before Sara came.
"No'm, thank you, ma'am. Everything is attended to.
I couldn't let anyone else prepare for Blossom. Only to think,
ma'am, she'll be home the day after to-morrow. I'm just filled
clear through, body, soul, and spirit, with joy to think
of having my little Blossom at home again."
Mrs. Blewett smiled sourly. When Mrs. Blewett smiled it
foretokened trouble, and wise people had learned to have sudden
business elsewhere before the smile could be translated into words.
But Old Man Shaw had never learned to be wise where Mrs. Blewett
was concerned, although she had been his nearest neighbour for years,
and had pestered his life out with advice and "neighbourly turns."
Mrs. Blewett was one with whom life had gone awry. The effect
on her was to render happiness to other people a personal insult.
She resented Old Man Shaw's beaming delight in his daughter's return,
and she "considered it her duty" to rub the bloom off straightway.
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