When she made her appearance they all flew at her. Chris was not ashamed to hug her before the porters, and there seemed so much to tell her on the way home that the drive was far too short.
"I seem to have heard all about you from Diana's clever letters," Mrs. Inglefield said, smiling; "but I find that there is a lot to be told me."
She was delighted with the words over the porch.
"Dear me!" she said. "I am a very proud mother this evening; it's not only the skill that is shown, but the love behind it that delights me!"
The children spent their happy hour a little later than usual that night. The stains on the carpet told their tale, but Mrs. Inglefield did not appear to notice them.
When she was visiting Noel in bed, he poured out the whole account to her.
"I've tried hard to be good, Mums. I reely have, and God has tried hard to make me good. But when you're away I've nobody to love me, and then I feel mis'able—I haven't had one little tiny kiss from anyone in the world since you went away. Oh, yes, I have. Miss Constance kissed me, but she only came once."
"My baby!"
Mrs. Inglefield only breathed the words, but she gathered her little son into her arms as only a mother can, and Noel was deeply content as he lay there.
Then Chris was visited. Mrs. Inglefield had heard about his school friend's invitation, and she spoke very tenderly to him about it.