Of course these apple-trees and those lilacs will be cut
down, and this summerhouse will be out of the way. You'll be surprised--
a few changes will do wonders, and--"
He stopped abruptly. A woman, tall, flushed, and angry-eyed, stood
before him in the path. She opened her lips, but no sound came--Mr.
Hazelton was lifting his hat. The flush faded, and her eyes closed as
though to shut out some painful sight; then she bowed her head with a
proud gesture, and sped along the way to the house.
Once inside, she threw herself, sobbing, upon the bed. Tabitha found her
there an hour later.
"You poor dear--they've gone now," she comforted.
Rachel raised her head.
"They're going to cut down everything--every single thing!" she gasped.
"I know it," choked Tabitha, "and they're going to tear out lots of
doors inside, and build in windows and things. Oh, Rachel,--what shall
we do?"
"I don't know, oh, I don't know!" moaned the woman on the bed, diving
into the pillows and hugging them close to her head.
"We--we might give up selling--he said we could if we wanted to."
"But there's Ralph!"
"I know it. Oh, dear--what can we do?"
Rachel suddenly sat upright.
"Do? Why, we'll stand it, of course. We just mustn't mind if he turns
the house into a hotel and the yard into a--a pasture!" she said
hysterically.
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