"No, no," the old lady answered, wiping her eyes, "I understand. Dear me, oh, dear me!"
"It's beautifully sunny out-of-doors," said May; "do come out into the garden with us, Aunt Ann!"
"Very well, dear, I will," Miss Basset replied, "I'm foolish to cry, I know. Oh, I do hope Josephine won't break down at the last—when the moment of parting from her father comes at the station, I mean. I am so afraid she will!"
Miss Basset need not have been afraid. Josephine's heart was one big ache when the moment of parting came, but her great unselfish love for her father made her determined not to distress him. She put her arms around his neck, and they kissed each other; then he placed her hand in Mr. Basset's, and sprang into the train just as it was on the point of starting. His last glimpse of Josephine showed her standing looking after the departing train, smiling and waving her kerchief to him. Thus in the future he to picture her—the brave little daughter who was dearer to him than all the world.
[CHAPTER VIII]
"A REAL PLUCKY LITTLE MAID!"
"DONALD, Donald! Oh, there you are! I've had a letter from Mrs. Ford by the afternoon post, and she says she's writing to Aunt Ann to ask if she may invite you to tea sometimes!"
The speaker was Josephine. She had come hurrying into the kitchen garden in search of Donald, who was standing by watching his sister weeding the corner which was her own garden. It was shaded by a big apple tree and did not get enough sunshine to grow flowers; but ferns flourished there, and May had turned it from a waste corner into a beautiful fernery.
It was April, the week after Easter, and very soon Donald would be going back to boarding-school at Exeter. He had discarded his crutch altogether now.
"Oh, I say, how jolly of her!" he replied, his blue eyes sparkling. "Did you put it to her that she might?" he asked.