Elsa’s Uncle Ned tried his best to cheer the spirits of the Club. He told funny stories, he praised Ben’s horse, he gave them mysterious hints of what would take place at the Christmas-tree that afternoon—although he did not actually tell them a thing—and finally, by the time they were opposite the Holt’s sunny, flowery-windowed house, he had succeeded somewhat in making the children forget their disappointment.
Then it was that Mr. Danforth himself grew suddenly grave and thoughtful as he asked Ben to stop for a moment while he delivered a message from Mrs. Danforth to Mrs. Holt.
This did not seem anything very important, and the children waited more patiently than the horse did, in front of his home.
But the message must have been one which affected Mrs. Holt greatly; for when Ben and Alice looked, as they always did when they drove away, to see their mother wave to them from the window, she was not there. Could they have seen her at that moment, they would have been amazed to see her leaning against the mantel with her hands over her face, weeping softly at the message which Mr. Danforth had brought.
They would have been still more amazed could they have been at the front door of their own home a few moments later, when Mrs. Danforth’s coupé, drawn by the spirited gray horse, drove up to that door and Mrs. Danforth herself dismounted.
Most amazed of all would they have been when their mother opened the door, to hear her exclaim, “Mother!” and throw her arms around Mrs. Danforth, and to hear the tall, white-faced woman crying, “My daughter, my daughter!” as the fair-haired younger woman led her into the house and shut the door.
The rest of the short distance to the Convalescent Home was spent chiefly in talking about Miss Ruth and the Club’s plans for the future. “Are we going to have a meeting next week?” Elsa inquired of Betty, who knew Miss Ruth best.
“I don’t know, I’m sure,” was Betty’s discouraging answer. “Mother said Miss Ruth told her she was going away after New Year’s for a visit, somewhere.”