She had believed you then--what would she ever
believe again? And then she caught back the despairing sobs
swiftly, for once more she heard, far off, the rushing of wings.
Nearer--nearer--humming and singing and hovering in the quiet dusk.
Why, it was over the garden! She flung back her head, suddenly eager
to see it; it was a friendly and thrilling sound in all that
stillness. Oh, it was coming lower--lower still--she could hear the
throb of the propellers clearly. Where _was_ it? Behind those trees,
perhaps? She raced up the flight of steps, dashing the treacherous
tears from her eyes, straining up on impatient tiptoes. Surely she
could see it now! But already it was growing fainter--drifting
steadily away, the distant hum growing lighter and lighter--lighter
still----
"Janet!" called Mrs. Langdon's pretty, patient voice. "Dinner-time,
dear! Is there any one with you?"
"No one at all, Mrs. Langdon. I was just listening to an airplane."
"An _airplane_? Oh, no, dear--they never pass this way any more. The
last one was in October, I think----"
The soft, plaintive voice trailed off in the direction of the
dining-room and Janet followed it, a small, secure smile touching
her lips. The last one had not passed in October.
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