like a redbird, like a redbird," the old women said to her. "Come and get warm, come and get warm. . . . Have you had your supper . . . have you had your supper? . . ." they kept saying these things over and over again in their excitement. It was a perfect babel of sound, and out of it Hildegarde's voice emerged, with laughter in it. "I'm not in the least chilled, but I'm hungry enough to eat a house."
They helped her strip off the shimmering coat, they took the red hat from her, and opened the red umbrella that it might dry. They did these things in a sort of dream. It seemed incredible that she was here when they had wanted her so much. Usually the things they had wanted had been withheld. But here she was, and she was saying: "I am never going back. Never."
"Why not?" they asked, breathlessly.
"Oh, it's a long story. I'll tell you while we're having supper. I'm starved. Aunt Olivia, you've baked a spice cake. What a heavenly thing to do. The minute I opened the door I smelled the dee-liciousness. . . ."
They felt it was delightful the way she said "dee-licous." They laughed with her. "You run along upstairs," Aunt Olivia urged, "and make yourself comfortable, and we'll cook something hot. There's everything in the pantry. . . ."
After that they rushed back and forth excitedly, getting things ready. "We'll have coffee," Aunt Catherine said, "I'll drink a cup if it keeps me awake all night."
Aunt Olivia felt that it would be a great adventure to keep awake. She wanted coffee, and she wanted more than that. She wanted a good supper. She
