She wore her best
hat and dress, and she held Lionel Hezekiah by the hand.
Lionel Hezekiah's beaming face was scrubbed clean, and his
curls fell in beautiful sleekness over the lace collar of
his velvet suit.
"How do you feel now, Salome?" asked Judith gently.
"Better. I've had a lovely sleep. But where are you going, Judith?"
"I am going to church," said Judith firmly, "and I am going to take
Lionel Hezekiah with me."
XII. The End of a Quarrel
Nancy Rogerson sat down on Louisa Shaw's front doorstep and looked
about her, drawing a long breath of delight that seemed tinged with pain.
Everything was very much the same; the square garden was as charming
bodge-podge of fruit and flowers, and goose-berry bushes and
tiger lilies, a gnarled old apple tree sticking up here and there,
and a thick cherry copse at the foot. Behind was a row of pointed firs,
coming out darkly against the swimming pink sunset sky, not looking
a day older than they had looked twenty years ago, when Nancy
had been a young girl walking and dreaming in their shadows.
The old willow to the left was as big and sweeping and, Nancy thought
with a little shudder, probably as caterpillary, as ever.
Nancy had learned many things in her twenty years of exile from Avonlea,
but she had never learned to conquer her dread of caterpillars.
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