Winter came late that year , and the season was a very open one . There was no snow on the ground and , a month after Joe Raymond 's boat had been cast up on the Blue Point sand shore , Thyra , wandering about in her garden , found some pansies blooming under their tangled leaves . She was picking them for Damaris when she heard a buggy rumble over the bridge and drive up the White lane , hidden from her sight by the alders and firs . A few minutes later Carl and Cynthia came hastily across their yard under the huge balm-of-gileads . Carl 's face was flushed , and his big body quivered with excitement . Cynthia ran behind him , with tears rolling down her face . Thyra felt herself growing sick with fear . Had anything happened to Damaris ? A glimpse of the girl , sewing by an upper window of the house , reassured her . `` Oh , Thyra , Thyra ! '' gasped Cynthia . `` Can you stand some good news , Thyra ? '' asked Carl , in a trembling voice . `` Very , very good news ! '' Thyra looked wildly from one to the other . `` There 's but one thing you would dare to call good news to me , '' she cried . `` Is it about -- about -- '' `` Chester ! Yes , it 's about Chester ! Thyra , he is alive -- he 's safe -- he and Joe , both of them , thank God ! Cynthia , catch her ! ''
`` No , I am not going XXXXX faint , '' said Thyra , steadying herself by Cynthia 's shoulder .
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