"Are you tired of us?"
"Tired!" She came and placed her arm caressingly over his shoulder. "Oh, I have never been tired, but there is mother and—the rest," with a tremble in her voice, while her eyes had the softness of coming tears. "Think how long I have been away!"
"And they've had many a heartache, I dare say. I don't know how they could spare you long. Of course, where your daughters marry it is a different thing. You resign yourself to that," said Mrs. Craig.
"When did you think of starting?"
"Well, so as to miss the equinoctial." People pinned their faith to its coming regularly in those days. "And perhaps no one would care to take such a journey if they had no need, and she couldn't come alone."
"No;" in a grave, slow tone. "We must talk it over. I've thought of her staying in the winter and going to school, perhaps. And you might study music," glancing at her.
"Oh, you are very good. But—I ought to go."
"Yes. You've had a nice long time, and lots of going about, I've heard. I hope you have not been spoiled. And you are the only girl your mother has. Then she had you so long before Felix came and while your father was away, and I know she's missed you sorely."
The tears did come into Daffodil's eyes then.
After Mrs. Craig had gone, her guardian drew her down on the sofa beside him.