"My painter has come at last!"
Mrs. Gordon welcomed Jean affectionately.
"Sunnie has done nothing but talk of you ever since we heard the news. We hoped you might come over this afternoon, but were not sure."
"Now," announced Sunnie, "we will all sit round the fire and have a talk like we used to do; but may I place the chairs, mother?"
Assent was given. It seemed strange to Jean to watch the child's active movements. She looked White and fragile still, and seemed taller than when she had lain on her couch, but her cloud of soft hair floated over her shoulders in the old bewitching way, and her little expressive face had lost none of its fascinating sweetness and joyousness.
"The big cushioned chair for my painter, for then she can take me on her knee, and mother will be in her own chair on one side of her to talk to her, and Cousin Leslie will have his own lounge seat on the other side of her, and we'll all be as close together as ever we can manage, for we all love each other so, don't we! And this is my party, for mother said it was."
"I think I am the favoured one," said Jean as, after settling every one to her satisfaction, Sunnie climbed into her lap. "I don't think I have ever held you in my arms before."
"She is not very heavy, is she?" said her mother, looking at her child rather wistfully as she spoke.
"Leslie, what do you think of her?"
"She is first rate," he replied cheerfully. "Perhaps she ought to be fattened up a bit, but you must expect her running about to take it out of her a little."