Then Dolly followed suit, shaking hands with the Colonel, and privately thinking what an ugly man he was. Colonel Erskine helped Dorothea to descend, and as she sprang on the platform, she squeezed his hand, saying eagerly, "How good you are to us!"
"No, no—it is you who are good to come," Colonel Erskine answered, returning the warm pressure. "Here is my Dolly—your namesake. You have met before;" and he tried to laugh, though there was still a wet glitter in his eyes, as he brought the girls together, with a hand on the arm of each.
"At our Christening," Dorothea said at once. Dolly was very quiet, putting out her gloved hand with one shy glance; and a curious tenderness crept into Dorothea's eyes. "What a little darling! How I shall love her!" she was saying to herself; but Dolly could not guess the thought.
Colonel Tracy muttered something about "luggage," and careered away down the platform, only to find his trunks already landed. The other three followed, Colonel Erskine saying—"So your father is quite well again?"
"Oh, quite!" Dorothea's bright glance said plainly. "Thanks to you!"
"You are very like your mother," said Colonel Erskine, a touch of sadness in the tone.
"Am I? It is nice to be told that."
"Doesn't your father say the same?"
"I don't know. Yes—perhaps—something of the kind."
Colonel Tracy awaited their arrival, not yet at his ease. "What's to be done with these?" he asked gruffly as they approached.