“That’s what I was afraid of. It is perfectly natural that you should feel so, but after all I think I wouldn’t do it. Jerry has let the boys know of all the pleasant things that have happened and I think we need not do any more.”
“I think after all I’m rather glad not to. I never, never want to see that back yard again; do you?”
“No, my dear, no.”
Cassy’s Uncle John had already gone up to take possession of the new home and was there to welcome them when they arrived. He had bought a comfortable dayton and a pair of strong horses and was at the station to meet them. Cassy’s heart beat so fast and she was so overcome when they came within sight of the house that she slipped down on the floor of the dayton and buried her face in her mother’s lap. Mrs. Law laid her hand gently on the child’s. She understood the excitable, intense nature.
John Kennedy, looking over his shoulder at the back seat, missed his little niece.
“Where’s Cassy?” he asked.
She lifted her head and he saw her trembling lips and moist eyes.
“Not crying, Cassy?” he said.
“I’m not crying because I am sorry, Uncle John, but I’m so glad I can’t help it.”
As they stopped before the gate, after turning in from the long lane, there came a shout and a hallo, and around the corner of the house came Rock, Eleanor, May Garland and Bubbles, all capering about in delight and calling out a dozen things before the newcomers had left their places. Jerry was the first to scramble down. He viewed the house now spick and span in its new coat of paint.