It being now four o'clock, the hour at which the governess usually left the Glen, she said "good afternoon" and took her departure. As soon as she had gone May ran upstairs to take off her hat and jacket, whilst the others went into the dining-room, where Jane, the parlour-maid, was laying the table for tea.
"I thought perhaps you would want tea early, ma'am," the girl said to Miss Basset, with a glance at Josephine.
"Quite right, Jane," Miss Basset answered; "as soon as it is ready, please. We shall not wait till Mr. Basset returns."
Five minutes later the old lady and the three young people—May had soon returned—were seated at the table. It had a big bowl of chrysanthemums in the centre, most beautiful blooms. Josephine's face lighted up with a smile when she saw the old-fashioned bronze urn set before Miss Basset and heard it singing.
"Oh!" she exclaimed, "everything's exactly as father said it would be!—exactly as it was when he was a boy and used to spend his holidays here, Aunt Ann. He has always remembered—oh, everything! And how kind you were to him, too! Lots of times we've talked of coming home together, and—"
She paused abruptly, for Miss Basset was wiping her eyes, then added quickly—
"Oh, please don't cry! I didn't mean to make you cry!"
"I'm very foolish," murmured Miss Basset, "but when I think of your poor father—oh, dear me!"
Josephine was silent. Her pale face had become a little paler, but she showed no other sign of emotion. After a minute she said quietly: "Father is all right, Aunt Ann."
Miss Basset was so surprised at this remark that she could only stare at Josephine in amazement. May and Donald stared at her too; they thought she certainly must be rather heartless.