"Oh, John, what a trying time you have had, dear! We have all missed you so much! It has seemed a year since you went away! Where is Stella? I am anxious to see the little town mouse."
"I have delivered her over to the tender mercies of Miss Clarke and the children. They will see to her, and after she has had some tea she shall come upstairs and make your acquaintance."
"Yes, I daresay after the long journey she will want her tea at once. But are you sure, John, that she will not be shy or nervous with strangers?"
"My dear Mary, when you have seen the child you will understand that it is not in her nature to be shy or nervous in the way you mean. Nothing discomposes her. Our young ones are much more likely to be shy with her than she with them."
"Really? How strange!"
"I should say she is rather a strange child, from what I learnt from the nurse who attended her mother. It seems my sister-in-law brought her up in what we should think an odd manner. For instance, Stella thinks a deal of fine clothes, and jewellery, and the appearances of things generally. I assure you, the first time I saw her I felt she was looking me through and through!"
"Surely she must be a disagreeable child, John!"
"No, on the contrary, she is charming. She is very pretty, with dark bright eyes, and gentle courteous manners. She did not feel her mother's death—cried hardly at all."
"Oh, John!"
"It is not to be wondered at. I believe she thought of her mother as a sort of superior being, very wealthy, very beautiful, queening it over others, and exacting implicit obedience. When she came in to take her last look at her mother it was as though she looked on a strange face."