"Well, I know you don't like those jokes, but one must sometimes, eh, Nellie?"
She looked archly up in the troubled face.
"You're a dear old sister," she added, kissing her, "and I'm a tease."
"Please don't say anything like that downstairs, Ada."
"I won't, you may be sure."
She ran off, and Nellie followed, as the second bell sounded.
The violets, to say nothing of this homecoming of Walter's, were a diversion from Nellie's headache, and her pale, sorrowful face passed unnoticed.
Dr. Arundel was truly delighted with the news which that morning's post had brought, and looked cheered at the thought of having his dear son so much sooner than had been anticipated. Thus the dinner passed in cheerful talk, and Nellie joined with the rest in surmising how soon he would come, and in all the questions which after all could have no answer.
When Ada returned from afternoon school, she ran upstairs to Nellie, and found her in the drawing room reading aloud to Tom and the little girls.
"Is your head too bad to come to Hampstead?" she asked eagerly. "Papa is waiting outside. He has a patient near there, and he says the carriage shall drive us there, and fetch him on its way back."