There were nine children—Walter and Nellie by the first wife, and seven since, the two youngest of whom, a baby boy of two years, and a little pet girl of four, were happily at tea in the nursery on this cold day in January.
Very soon the three sisters came down looking, as Ada had said, warm and tidy and fresh, or if they were not warm, they soon would be.
"Now tell us all your doings," exclaimed Ada.
"How did you leave Christina?" asked Mrs. Arundel.
"She was very well, and very happy; and we really had so much to do, and were so busy over the Christmas tree, that the time flew by in an extraordinary way," answered Nellie.
"Did they have a Christmas tree?" said Ada rather regretfully.
"Yes, last night; just a very simple one. We did so want you, Ada! But papa had said so distinctly that you were needed at home, that Christina did not like to write."
Ada's colour came fast, and she went on with her tatting in silence, her eyes filling in spite of all her efforts when she remembered the delights she had missed, and pictured to herself how intensely she would have enjoyed it all. She knew, however, that it had not been "her turn" to go, and acquiesced in its being right; but still "how she would have enjoyed it!"
Nellie knew this well enough, and had offered to come home and send Ada instead; but Christina Arbuthnot, at whose house at Hampstead they had been staying, understood Dr. and Mrs. Arundel's wise decision, and would not allow Nellie to write and make the proposal.
"And did it go off well?" asked Mrs. Arundel.