"Perhaps because I think all the world of him!" said Miss Bertha, smiling. "I could not be happy without flowers and children."
Search was made at once for Susy and her father, but both of them had disappeared. Whether the child had come across her father on the road, or whether she had tramped along on his track, remained a question. It was pretty certain that they had left the beaten road and taken to by-lanes.
Christina was bitterly disappointed, but was quite positive that she would see Susy again.
"I'm sure I shall," she asserted. "Susy told me they often came past our village, and they'll come past it again, and perhaps one day, Miss Bertha, God will make Susy's father a good man. He can, can't He? And Susy and I are both asking Him to do it. And then he'll give up drinking and p'r'aps live in a little cottage and go to church on Sundays and be kind to Susy."
"Yes, pray on, Childie. Nothing is impossible with God," said Miss Bertha with her cheery little nod.
Christina thoroughly enjoyed her week with Miss Bertha. She trotted about the house and delighted in making herself useful, helping Lucy to dust, feeding Miss Bertha's fowls, and weeding the gravel paths in the little garden.
"There's nothing I can do at home," she confided to Miss Bertha, "because we have too many servants. There's our turret room—Puggy and I scrubbed and cleaned that out the other day; but Connie scolded me because I got my pinafore wet, and said I oughtn't to do it. I wish we lived in a little cottage like this!"
"You are a happy little girl as you are; don't wish for what you have not got."
The day Christina returned home she was greeted by Puggy vociferously.
"I'm just longing to tell you the news! We're all going up to London. Think of that! And we shall see Dawn and go sight-seeing. And we're going to-morrow. Hurray!"