ern windows of the dining-room, for a rising nor'easterly breeze had begun to thrust in occasional sharp wisps of cold around the loosened panes.
The hall door flew open with a clash, admitting a swirl of very cold wind, as well as the breathless persons of Mark and Alan Ingram. If you were as well acquainted with generations of Ingrams as Resthaven is, you would wonder how these boys came to bear the name at all. For they were both as dark as their mother had been, and as tall, whereas the Ingrams had always been small, with a wiry slightness that gave an impression of height. No, it was quite evident that the last of the true Ingram look was to be found in the slow, blue fire of Jane's eyes and the clear lines of a mouth that could somehow be at once determined and dreamy.
Mackinaws cast off, the two boys sat themselves down with apologies to the aunts. The appetites of seventeen and fifteen after a long tramp are not soon satisfied, and there was silence for a time around the orange lamp. The aunts were busy over apportioning the
