“It is Nell!” she exclaimed. She hurried to the door just in time to see Nell holding to the side of the doctor’s trap with her one sound hand and dismounting after a fashion of her own.
“Yes, I have come. I just had to when I heard what was the matter, and it is of no use for you to send me away, because I will not go,” she said, with a low laugh which ended in a sob.
“I am too thankful to have you here even to wish you away,” Gertrude answered, with a sudden relief at her heart, for it seemed to her that nothing could be quite so hard to bear now that Nell had come to share the burdens with her.
Nell entered the house with very mingled feelings. She had been so happy here with the children last winter, that it was impossible not to feel joyful at coming back, only the shadow and the sorrow pulled the other way, and she was quite ready to weep with those who wept and to share in the sadness which oppressed the others.
The doctor went straight into Mrs. Lorimer’s room, where he whispered a word in Flossie’s ear which brought the child limping out to the sitting-room in a great hurry, where she cast herself into Nell’s arms and nestled there in a speechless welcome which was eloquent beyond the power of words to express.
Gertrude had followed the doctor into her mother’s room, and Patsey was outside with the doctor’s horse, so the two were alone.
“Nell, we’ve wanted you so badly,” sighed poor Flossie, whose small white face had an unchildlike look which made Nell’s heart ache.
“I came directly I knew,” she answered, in a low tone.
“I was sure you would; but Gertrude would not write, because she said you were not well enough to come. Who told you about it?” she asked.
“Dr. Shaw wrote to Mrs. Nichols to ask her if I were fit to come. I did not know about it until the evening, because I was away at Camp’s Gulch all day; but I started by the early cars this morning, and I’m going to stay as long as you need me,” Nell answered, in a low, soothing tone, as she gently rocked the little girl in her arm.