Heathersleigh Homecoming by Michael Phillips Page A

tell,” replied Marjolaine, laughing sweetly.
    Amanda placed the egg in the basket, remembering Sarah Minsterly’s words clearly now. They continued on until all the eggs had been gathered, then returned to the house together.
    The following afternoon, Amanda approached as Sister Clariss was hanging out the day’s laundry. She picked out a few items from the basket and began pinning them to the line. The activity, the clothespins in her hand, the smell of fresh linens, and the gentle breeze on her face gradually put Amanda in a quiet mood. Her subconscious was being pricked, though again she did not realize it at first.
    A minute or two went by as both young women worked side by side. It was Sister Clariss who spoke first.
    â€œWhat is that tune you’re humming?” she asked.
    Amanda stopped abruptly. “I . . . I don’t know,” she replied. “I didn’t realize I was humming. I suppose I was daydreaming.”
    â€œIt sounded like a pretty song,” said Clariss. “I haven’t heard it before.”
    They returned to their work. Again Amanda began to hum, conscious of it now. As the tune found its way through the ridges of her brain, she began to think of a day several years before—she was probably fourteen. She and her mother and Sarah were outside at Heathersleigh hanging out linens and towels.
    Her mother was singing. In the ear of her memory Amanda could hear her voice so clearly now:
    â€œRide a cock-horse to Banbury Cross
    To see an old lady upon a white horse. . . .”
    Catharine was bustling about trying to help but was hardly tall enough to reach the line. The sun was shining, it was a pleasant day, and everyone was happy.
    Everyone but Amanda. Her own attitude was far from cheerful. She was irritated at being made to help. A sour disposition clouded her entire countenance, and she made certain the towel she was pinning to the line took long enough that the basket would be empty beforeshe was done with it. She might have to be out here, but she didn’t have to enjoy it. She was determined to make sure her mother knew she hated it, and equally determined to do as little as she could get away with.
    Her mother continued to sing and chat with Sarah, then paused to teach the rhyme to Catharine. After the brief explanation, her mother began singing again.
    â€œRings on her fingers, and bells on her toes,
    She shall have music wherever she goes.”
    All the while Amanda stewed silently. Even the memory made her stomach churn—not, however, from irritation at her mother, but from the uncomfortable feeling of remembering what an irritable child she had been. How had her mother put up with it!
    She shook away the memory. This one was far from happy. It was too painful to look back on the incident with the new eyes of her awakening conscience.
    What could account for the change? she thought. Today she was doing the very same thing and enjoying it as she had rarely enjoyed anything in years. What was the difference? Why was this work here actually fun?
    Was it something about this place . . . or had she really changed so much?

 14 
Reflections on Their Guest
    Sister Hope sat at her desk with several papers in front of her. The afternoon was unusually warm for fall, and her window was open.
    The snow everywhere but on the mountains was gone. It felt as though summer had returned for a brief visit. From outside she now heard a voice singing a bright melody.
    She rose and went to the window.
    It was thus that Sister Gretchen found her a short time later as she entered Hope’s small office. Hope turned, her eyes full of tears.
    â€œWhat is it, Hope?” Gretchen asked with concern.
    Sister Hope smiled. “I was just so overcome with gratitude,” she replied. “How the Lord manages to use this chalet in lives is so wonderful. Even after all these years I find myself amazed by it, and thankful