 | An idyl of work
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A feeling near akin to jealousy
She recognized when Esther came at last,
So waited for by Eleanor; but, ashamed
Before itself, her heart gave room to both;
And days and days she kept them at her side,
Growing to them most dear. The roadside inn
Was homelike, and the three friends went and came,
Together or alone, free as the breeze
That rippled Bearcamp Water.
As she watched
The two girls wandering down the meadow-road,
One golden morning, Miriam Willoughby
Sat at her window, and, in pauses, wrote
To one who shared her passion for the hills:—
| An idyl of work
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