tiny head with kisses. But Juliet drew away.

"I'm not little," she said. "I'm old."

"So am I old," said Anna. She felt the joy run out of her; it left her
empty. "I expect everybody in the world is old," she said. She
watched her hands move about in the hay like great spiders.

"Is it fun to be old, do you think?" asked Juliet.

"I don't know," said Anna. "I don't expect it is, much."

"Mother is old," said Juliet. "What do old people do?"

Anna looked out through the barn door across the wet fields, the
drenched hillsides, shrouded in mist. "I don't know," she said. And
she got up to go home.

"Well, good-by," said Juliet.

Just then Mrs. Wicket came in from the road, with a basket on her arm.
When she saw Anna standing in front of the barn she grew pink and
confused. For she thought that Anna had come to call on her. "Good
afternoon," she said. "I was out. I'm real sorry. Won't you come in?"

"Oh, no," said Anna. "I was going on . . . I only stopped for a
minute. . . ."

And without another word she ran down the path, and out of the gate.
Mrs. Wicket stood looking after her in silence. Then, with a sigh, she