She had come in with the last line of their song and she had stood still listening and looking at them.

With the ivy behind her, the sunlight drifting through the trees and dappling her long blue cloak, and her nice fresh face smiling across the greenery she was rather like a softly colored illustration in one of Colin's books.

She had wonderful affectionate eyes which seemed to take everything in--all of them, even Ben Weatherstaff and the "creatures" and every flower that was in bloom.
Unexpectedly as she had appeared, not one of them felt that she was an intruder at all.

Dickon's eyes lighted like lamps.
"It's Mother--that's who it is!" he cried and he went across the grass at a run.
Colin began to move toward her, too, and Mary went with him.

They both felt their pulses beat faster.
"It's Mother!" Dickon said again when they met half-way.