"Oh yes!" was the quick response.
"I thought we had passed the turning that leads to Powderham Crescent."
Farmer Jo made no verbal reply to this; but he laughed again, his great form shaking, and his jovial face one broad beam of good humour.
"Oh, surely we are going the wrong way!" she cried, as they turned down a quiet road with pretty villas on either side.
But Farmer Jo took no heed. He pulled Colonel up before a little house overgrown with creepers, and before she could remonstrate, jumped out, lifted her down, and carried her up the garden path to the front door, placing her carefully on the doorstep. Then, still laughing, and with a quickness unusual in so large a man, he retraced his footsteps, swung himself up into the dogcart, and drove away. Scampering footsteps were now heard within the house, and voices that made Marigold's heart beat wildly. In another moment the door was flung open wide, and she was dragged into an adjoining sitting-room by a pair of merry, laughing boys who clung around her neck, kissing her and crying—
"Welcome home, Marigold! Here you are at last!"
"Rupert! Lionel!" she exclaimed, for they were her own dear brothers whom she had pictured miles and miles away; and it was her mother who now took her in her arms, and kissed her tenderly.
"Poor child! How puzzled she looks!" Mrs. Holcroft said. "How well your aunts must have kept our secret! Did neither Farmer Jo nor his mother give you a hint of the truth, darling? This is our new home. I selected the house after your illness, and your aunts have superintended the furnishing of it for me."
"Do you mean that you and the boys are going to live here, mother?"
"Yes. We only arrived last night."