They all went to Swallowfield until things could be settled. Pat took no part in the settling. Life had suddenly become for her like a landscape on the moon. She had the odd feeling of not belonging to this or any world that she had felt once or twice after a bad attack of flu. Only…this feeling would never pass. Mother, who bore up wonderfully, watched her anxiously.

It turned out that May had left the oil stove in the porch burning when she went to church. It was supposed to have exploded. Pat was not in the least interested in how it had happened. She was not interested in anything…not even in the finding of Judy’s “cream cow” quite unharmed amid the ashes in the cellar and the old front door with its knocker, lying on the lawn. Somebody had wrenched it off in a first vain attempt to enter the blazing house. She did not care when it was discovered that all the hooked rugs Judy had stored in the garret for her were safe, Aunt Barbara having borrowed them to copy the patterns the day before the fire. When you are horribly, hopelessly tired you can’t care about anything.

The only thing that seemed to be the least bit of comfort to her was that the white kittens had not been burned. She had packed the picture up after Judy’s death and sent it to Hilary. He had never even acknowledged it…that hurt her…but as she had sent it to his office she felt quite sure he must have received it. Yes, she was faintly glad Judy’s kittens had not been burned.

At first Long Alec talked of rebuilding Silver Bush. It was insured. Everybody seemed very pleased about the insurance…but no insurance could restore the old heirlooms…the old associations. And then, four days after the fire, Great-aunt Frances at the Bay Shore died and it was found that she had left the Bay Shore farm to mother.

“It’s strange how things work out,” said Aunt Barbara.

“Very strange,” agreed Pat bitterly.

The kaleidoscope shifted again. Long Alec and mother and Pat would go to live at the Bay Shore. And the new house for Sid and May…a house without memories…would be built on the old foundation of Silver Bush. It would not be like the old Silver Bush. That was gone and the place thereof would know it no more.

May was openly triumphant. A new house, with all the bay windows she wanted and a color-scheme kitchen like Olive’s! Lovely!

Mother was really pleased at the thought of going back to her old home to live.

“Mother is younger than I am,” thought Pat drearily.

She felt horribly old. Her love for Silver Bush had kept her young…and now it was gone. Nothing was left…there was only a dreadful, unbearable emptiness.