Lilian was laughing, all her doubts vanished.
Even Myra entered into the plans with spirit.
And never had a celebrity been met by a more enthusiastic crowd than was gathered at the Hampton station to meet the frail and fluttering little woman who stepped down from the 9:10.
Her eyes, shy and yet full of anticipation, were searching for Lilian, who fairly flew down the platform, the happy bevy of girls keeping close behind.
After Lilian had kissed her mother, each girl, as her name was spoken, wrung her hand with such goodwill and welcome that poor little Mrs. Moore realized that she would probably have rheumatism in her fingers for days, as a result. But her worn cheeks flushed with pleasure.
Whose would not, at such a reception when she had expected to be merely a spectator during her single day’s stay?
She was borne first to Lilian’s room.
Entering Ambler House, her eyes glowed, and she turned her head to look after a merry group that came running down the steps, their books under their arms. Through the great hall, the floor shining and smooth, with handsome rugs to give color here and there—and up the broad stairs the little procession wended its way.
And Lilian could hardly restrain a cry of surprise as she and her mother, followed by the faithful escort, stepped inside her room.
On the dresser was an adorable bunch of violets with inviting purple pins beside it.