BROUGHT HOME.
THEY stopped at a baker's shop—Lettie still borne in the arms which could not weary of their burden—and there Leveson ordered loaves and rolls sufficient to supply the Forsyth family for a week at least. At another shop, he desired that a goodly pat of butter and a quart of milk should be despatched to the same quarter; from another, he sent tea and sugar; and finally a joint of meat was ordered to follow in the morning. After which he hailed a cab, and stepped into it, sitting with Lettie on his knee, not making her talk, but watching the bewildered gravity of the little face, and tracing more strongly every moment the likeness to little Vi of old.
Home at last. Leveson paid and dismissed the cabman, then lifted Lettie up the steps and into the hall. Josie came rushing to meet him, but stopped short at the sight of the ragged little stranger.
"Yes, Josie, it is Vi herself," said Leveson.
Josie looked extremely perplexed what to do.
Lettie made no move, of course; and Josie was much more sensitive to the rags than Leveson had been.
But a quick "Josie, have you no welcome to offer?" recalled her to herself, and taking Lettie's hand, she kissed her shyly, letting the hand drop again the next moment. It felt very uncomfortable. Somehow this was not at all like the rapturous and enthusiastic re-union that she had always imagined for Vi's return; and that silent timid poor child did not seem in the least like her own sister. There was something unreal about the whole matter, and Josie looked distressfully at her brother.
"Patience, dear; it will all come right in time," said Leveson comprehendingly. "Where is my mother?"
"Up-stairs. She heard you come, and she said she was sure, by the way you shut the door, that you had some good news."
"Come, then, she is prepared," said Leveson. "We will go to her at once."