‘She is ready to see you,’ said Arthur, meeting Theodora, as she came down at nine the next morning after church.
Violet’s face, white as a lily, was on the pillow, and a little dark downy head was beside her.
A sense of being too late, of neglect and disappointment, rushed over Theodora, and made her looks not what the mother expected, as with smiling eyes and feeble voice she said, ‘Your niece, dear Theodora.’
‘I did not know—’ were Theodora’s first words, and their dissatisfied sound made Arthur regret his abrupt introduction; though she recovered herself enough to say something of gladness, and of hopes that Violet was comfortable.
‘Yes, thank you, quite. I am so thankful! I am so glad of everything. Now I hope Arthur will not lose the 12th of August.’
‘Only don’t talk now, my sweet one. Come, Theodora,’ as if he only wanted to get her out of the room.
‘I have not looked at the baby. What a fine one!’ and she was going to take her.
‘Oh, please don’t!’ said Violet; ‘she will begin screaming again!’ Then, seeing the cloud return, ‘Presently, dear aunt, when she wakes. Is not she a beauty?’
Arthur, his hand on the door, hurried Theodora again.
‘I will come’ she said, impatiently, ‘I will come and sit with you after breakfast, Violet; I only wish I had been called.’