
excerpt
But Maggie Thompson had heard of Sarah’s accident and did
not wait to be asked for help. She arrived before noon, driven by
her husband who carried her small suitcase into the house and announced,
“Right then, Maggie, I’ll be back for you on Wednesday.”
Surprised at the relief and pleasure she felt, Sarah welcomed her
friend’s warm hug. She had not looked forward to the lonely days
stretched out before her, days when she would not even be able to
ride Flicka over to the McNeills’ farm. And there was no hope of
anyone coming to visit her except, perhaps, Dave. He was the only
person, apart from Mrs. Thompson, who ever came to the house.
Not even Penny had offered to call.
For this Sarah could blame only herself. She had never invited
Penny, and she scorned her own false pride which made her reluctant
to offer hospitality to her friend. With Maggie Thompson she
had no such qualms. The older woman took everything in stride
and, if she felt any revulsion at the condition of the Fielding farm,
she never showed it.
Mrs. Thompson was quick to praise Sarah for what she had done
to the interior of the house. “It looks grand, lass. You’ve accomplished
a lot in two months. You’ve even made new drapes and slip covers.”
“And Ben has agreed to buy new wallpaper for at least two of the
rooms. As soon as my ankle’s better I have a big job to do.”
“Will you let me come and help you, lass? I was always a fair hand
at papering, if I do say so myself.”
“Oh, Mrs. Thompson, you’re so good to me. I’d love it if you
would.”
“That’s a deal then. Now I’d better get the dinner started if you
tell me what to make. You just sit there and visit with me while I
do the vegetables. Then this afternoon you’d better have a lie-down
because you look washed out.”
To Sarah’s dismay, the afternoon did bring a visitor. Soon after
Ben had gone outside after dinner, Will Andrews pulled his black
Ford up to the house and, accepting Mrs. Thompson’s invitation,
came into the kitchen. With the aid of the cane, Sarah rose from her
chair to greet him.