“Is not your eldest brother coming home to-day?” said Miss Winter in a low voice to Flora, who shook her head, and said confidentially, “He is not coming till he has passed that examination. He thinks it better not.”
Here entered, with a baby in her arms, a lady with a beautiful countenance of calm sweetness, looking almost too young to be the mother of the tall Margaret, who followed her. There was a general hush as she greeted Miss Winter, the girls crowding round to look at their little sister, not quite six weeks old.
“Now, Margaret, will you take her up to the nursery?” said the mother, while the impatient speech was repeated, “Mamma, can we go to Cocksmoor?”
“You don’t think it will be too far for you?” said the mother to Miss Winter as Margaret departed.
“Oh, no, not at all, thank you, that was not—But Margaret has explained.”
“Yes, poor Margaret,” said Mrs. May, smiling. “She has settled it by choosing to stay at home with me. It is no matter for the others, and he is going on Monday, so that it will not happen again.”
“Margaret has behaved very well,” said Miss Winter.
“She has indeed,” said her mother, smiling. “Well, Harry, how is the caterpillar?”
“They’ve just capsized it, mamma,” answered Harry, “and Mary is making all taut.”
Mrs. May laughed, and proceeded to advise Ethel and Norman to put away Henry V., and find the places in their Bibles, “or you will have the things mixed together in your heads,” said she.