And then, dismissing the one flaw in the delightful plan, they talked of Bobby's old home with enthusiasm till Margot came to take them to bed.
Chapter XV.
THE OLD HOUSE AGAIN.
It was a typical spring day. The old house stood in the midst of its rhododendrons and azaleas; the red brick wall round the kitchen garden was almost hidden by the masses of pink and white bloom upon it; the orchard was a picture of beauty, whilst the flower-beds in front were masses of late bulbs and forget-me-nots. The house itself was the same, and yet not the same. It seemed as if it were waking up from a long sleep. Every-one of the windows was open; the hall was filled with the scent of flowers, and, as the dock in it struck five, Lady Isobel came to the door, and shading her eyes with her hands looked out along the drive. The sun was getting low, but it sent its slanting golden rays across her pretty blue gown. Her face had lost much of its sadness, and her lips were parted in smiling expectancy now, for she had caught the sound of wheels. In another moment a big dogcart swung up to the house, and the cheery voice of her husband called to her.
'Here they are safe and sound! And Margot is following with the luggage cart.'
The next minute two pairs of childish arms were embracing her.
'Oh Aunt Is'bel, we're so glad to come!'
'And Bobby hasn't cried a tear since dad went away, for we mean to be so happy.'
'That is splendid, my darling! Come along in and see some changes we have made, and then Bobby shall take us to the nursery and tell us how he likes it, and whether he thinks Margot will be happy in it.'