“It went past.”
“It was the omnibus. She must be walking down!” Ethel breathed short, and wandered aimlessly about; Meta put her arm round her waist.
“I did not think this would be so much to you,” she said.
“Oh, Meta, it seems like dear mamma coming to see how we have been going on. And then papa! I wish I had gone up to the station with him.”
“He has Richard.”
“Ay, but I am afraid Margaret is listening and will be restless, and have a palpitation; and I can’t go and see, or I shall disturb her. Oh, I wish it were over.”
Meta stroked her, and soothed her, and assured her that all would do well, and presently they heard the click of the door. Ethel flew into the hall, where she stopped short, her heart beating high at the sound of overpoweringly familiar accents.
She was almost relieved by detecting otherwise little resemblance; the height was nearly the same, but there was not the plump softness of outline. Mrs. Arnott was small, thin, brisk and active, with a vivacious countenance, once evidently very fair and pretty, but aged and worn by toil, not trouble, for the furrows were the traces of smiles around her merry mouth, and beautiful blue eyes, that had a tendency lo laugh and cry both at once. Dr. May who had led her into the light, seemed to be looking her all over, while Richard was taking the wraps from her, and Ethel tried to encourage herself to go forward.
“Ay!” said the doctor, kissing her. “I see you, Flora, now. I have found you again.”
“I found you as soon as I heard your voice, Richard,” said she. “And now for the bairnies.”