Sweeter than Birdsong by Rosslyn Elliott

birch trunk, looking deeper into the grove. She had the fleeting sensation of standing outside a window, watching a party to which she had not been invited.
    Cornelia, dressed in flowing green silk, had removed her bonnet and hung it on a nearby branch. Her rich auburn hair was crowned with a wreath of pinkish-purple blooms, and she held out a half-finished blossom wreath to Mrs. Lawrence. “Do wear a wreath, Mother. I missed the woods here while I was abroad. We did not have such wild beauty in Paris.” Cornelia skipped like a little girl and jumped over a fallen limb.
    “Where is our sophisticated Frenchwoman now?” A woman’s voice came from behind another tree. Mrs. Hanby stepped out with her arms full of the same soft blossoms on their green, waxy stems.
    “Indeed, Cornelia. A wild changeling has taken your place.” Mrs. Lawrence smiled and leaned down to gently remove a whole geranium plant from the soil under the trees.
    Kate might not have another opportunity soon to thank Mrs. Hanby for her intercession in her father’s drunken debacle. She must overcome her shyness this once. “Good afternoon.” Kate’s first greeting was too soft, and they did not hear, so she walked toward them a few steps, wending her way around the ground cover and twigs. “Good afternoon, Mrs. Hanby.”
    “Why—good afternoon, Miss Winter.” Mrs. Hanby’s surprise was plain. She laid her flowers in the basket by her feet. Cornelia and Mrs. Lawrence still had not turned around.
    “I do not mean to interrupt,” Kate said.
    “Not at all.” Mrs. Hanby moved a few steps nearer.
    Cornelia spotted her over her shoulder. “Kate!” She twisted a stem into place between her hands. “As my mother will not accept a garland, I will give it to you.” She grinned and held out the circlet of flowers. Kate approached hesitantly. Cornelia lifted the wreath and placed it on Kate’s head. The flowers brushed her brow, a sweet scent released by their broken stems.
    “There,” Cornelia said. “Now we are a couple of wild changelings together.” She took Kate’s elbow. “Will you walk with us down to the creek? We’re taking the air, as well as stealing nature’s beauty.”
    Kate nodded, and the older women picked up their baskets.
    She listened to their gay chatter as she walked through the dapples of sunlight on the woodland path. They did not know what had happened after the party last night, the scene that refused to leave Kate’s mind. When they reached the creek’s edge, Cornelia went to show her mother a frog beneath a waterside fern.
    Kate turned to Mrs. Hanby. “I want to thank you for your kindness last night.”
    “Not at all,” Mrs. Hanby said. “I was glad to meet your family.”
    Kate blinked and walked to the edge of the creek bank. If only her family were more like these women. The sharpness of the yearning threw her off balance. She sensed Mrs. Hanby behind her, petite but somehow as strong as one of these trees rooted in the riverbank.
    “Would you like to accompany me on an excursion to Columbus?” Mrs. Hanby asked.
    Kate twisted to face her. “Pardon, ma’am?”
    “The three of us are taking a jaunt to the city next week. We will hear Cornelia play at Neil House, and do some shopping and take in the sights. I would like to take you with us. My daughter Amanda does not wish to go, and we will have an extra bed if you wish it.”
    She struggled against the wave of unreality. She could go with them, have her lodging for free, and then slip off into the city crowd when they were not watching. But what would happen to Leah and her mother if Kate left Westerville now? Perhaps she could get away, establish herself, and then provide for Leah as well with some honest work. She could send for her sister in secret, and at least the two of them would be safe.
    “I don’t know if my mother would permit me to go.” That was the only impediment, and not a minor one.
    “Perhaps not, if it were just you and I,” Mrs.