"Yes, mother," Joy replied, seriously. "I can't think why I feel sad, but I do, and yet I am longing to see the Moat House and Uncle Jasper. I believe Celia is right—she said just now I was like a cat, attached to the house and furniture. Now I come to leave here I find I am really very fond of our shabby little home."
Celia raised her eyebrows incredulously; but, at that instant, the expected cab arrived at the door, and a few minutes later they were being driven in the direction of the railway station.
[CHAPTER III.]
THE ARRIVAL AT THE MOAT HOUSE.
THE bright May sunshine shone upon the Moat House with its ivy-clad walls, and peeped into the library where Sir Jasper Amery was seated, pen in hand, before his writing-table. A short thin old man was Sir Jasper, with a pale, wrinkled countenance, and snow-white hair, which was brushed smoothly back from a somewhat massive forehead. Presently, as a ray of sunshine flickered across his face, he glanced up quickly, revealing a pair of sharp grey eyes, deep-set beneath overhanging brows.
"Dear me, I had nearly forgotten all about them!" he muttered, as he laid down his pen. "It's almost five o'clock. Time for them to be here."
Rising, he hobbled rather than walked to the door, for he was crippled with rheumatism, and went into the hall, where he encountered Mrs. Mallock, his housekeeper, who had been in his service many years.
"Has the carriage gone to meet my niece and her children?" he inquired.
"Yes, Sir Jasper," was the prompt reply; "your instructions have been carried out to the letter. The rooms in the east wing have been put in order, and very home-like and comfortable they look, I do assure you! Mrs. Wallis will be hard to please if she is not satisfied."
Sir Jasper nodded approvingly. Taking his hat he went out-of-doors to wait for his visitors.