Mrs. Garland stroked her head.
Harebell quivered; then looked up at her with big eyes. "I wish I had you for my mother! I want some one like you dreadfully at Gable Lodge—Goody is kind, but she's never stroked my head like you, only brushed it. Mothers are different to anybody else, aren't they?"
"I do believe they are," said Mrs. Garland, smiling. "You must be an adopted daughter of mine for the time; but don't give us many more days like yesterday. They are too tiring!"
"I won't! I won't! Peter will have to do the running away himself the next time. I'll tell him so!"
Then a settled gravity came over her face. She took hold of Mrs. Garland's hands, and squeezed them tightly.
"I want to write Tom Triggs a letter. You will let me, won't you? He is ill, and Aunt Diana said I wasn't to speak to him, but she did let Mr. Garland take me to him, and I saw a lovely picture of the Door, yesterday, and I want to tell him about it. I'm simply thirsting to write to him!"
"Oh, Harebell!"
Mrs. Garland's eyes laughed; then she stooped and kissed her.
"Yes, you may write now, if you like. There's a little quiet corner in the drawing-room. Bring your letter there. I am writing too; and Peter and Nan will be having their romp in the schoolroom."
It was a great treat to be invited into the drawing-room. Harebell was delighted. For nearly three-quarters of an hour she was busy with her letter. First she wrote it in pencil, then she copied it out in ink. Mrs. Garland did not ask to see it; she gave her a stamp and told her how to address the envelope.