Margaret Cummings laid a kindly hand on her shoulder, and looked at her with an expression of great tenderness in her grey eyes. She did not speak; nevertheless Josephine realized that she sympathized with her and understood her, and impulsively bestowed upon her a grateful, affectionate kiss.
"I wanted you to know father was coming," she whispered, "because I felt certain you'd care!"
"And now I think we'd better be going," said May, "for Aunt Ann will be expecting us—she didn't know we should call here."
On their way home Donald, who had been unusually silent and thoughtful for some time, remarked—
"After all Miss Cummings is not such a very bad sort."
"A very bad sort!" echoed Josephine rather indignantly; "I should say she is a very good sort indeed!"
"Yes," agreed May, "but, somehow, before the war we didn't find it out."
"Look, there is Mrs. Rumbelow seated in the sunshine in her garden!" exclaimed Josephine as they approached Vine Cottage. "Do let us speak to her!"
The others were quite willing to do so, so they drew up at the garden gate and wished the old woman "good morning." She was seated on a wooden chair, an open letter in her hand from which she had glanced up on hearing footsteps and voices.
"Oh, please don't move," May said quickly, as Mrs. Rumbelow made a movement to rise, "we are only going to stop a minute or so. Don't you find the sunshine very hot?"