"An' she lives there?" said Ailie.
"That she do,—an' her father an' grandfather afore her. A mighty kind lady she be, and we're main glad to have her among us again, with little Miss Vi and all."
Passing by a plantation of saplings growing close to the road, a small gate in the fence opened, and two little girls rushed out. "I knew it was them," cried Josie. "I knew it, directly I heard the cart. O stop, please—don't drive on. Let them both get down here. What do you think of the country, Ailie?"
The man pulled up slowly, threw the reins on the old horse's neck, stepped down himself first, lifted Ailie to the ground, and helped her mother to follow. Ailie gazed wonderingly round, and back at Josie.
"Well?" repeated Josie. "You look as puzzled as Vi did, when first we came. But you like it now, don't you, Vi?"
"It's just beautiful," said little Vi emphatically. "Ever so much better than the old court, ain't it, Ailie?"
Ailie nodded. Words would not come yet. "Mother will see you soon," said Josie, assuming the patronizing "Miss Therlock" air, which she sometimes put on. "And now I am going to show you your new home. Come along, Vi,—we'll lead the way."
Holding Vi's hand, as if she counted her little sister her especial charge, Josie danced along the grass borders, looking back impatiently at Mary Carter's slower footsteps.
"It's not far," she said, "only along the road,—straight on this way. After all, you might as well have kept in the cart, but it doesn't matter. We're close now. Only this one corner. There!"
They had reached the large iron gates which formed the principal entrance to the grounds. Beside them stood a fancy cottage, small and neat, overgrown by honeysuckle and clematis. One lattice window below and one above looked towards the road, and a tiny garden, stocked with early vegetables, lay on one side. Ailie's eyes went speechlessly to her mother and to Josie.