"I could not come sooner. It was not my choice. There was no getting away from Westford till late on Saturday, and a day in London on business proved imperative. As I told you, I was not sure of coming even to-day."
He threw himself into the corner of a couch, and Julia sat on a low chair close by, watching him with eager eyes and clasped hands. She could not understand his look. Was he bored, or vexed, or worried? Mittie, too, was gazing in evident perplexity, for upon Harvey's smooth brow lay two upright ruts not wont to be there.
Julia took refuge in the wifely question—
"Are you very tired?"
"No—yes; I believe I am. It has been a trying time altogether. Well, Mittie, what mischief have you been after?"
He held out an arm, and she came near cautiously, with the proviso, "Then I won't be scrubbed?"
"No; all right. I'll take care. How will you like a pretty young cousin to live with?"
"She isn't my cousin," said Mittie. "What have you got those ugly puckers for?" and her small fingers endeavoured to do away with the dents.
Harvey laughed, and the puckers disappeared. "If Hermione is not your cousin, you must adopt her."
"Is it settled that she lives with us?" asked Francesca.