In general, it is the people that are left behind stationary, who give way to low spirits at any parting; the travellers, however bitterly they may feel the separation, find something in the change of scene to soften regret in the very first hour of separation. But as Molly walked home with her father from seeing Mrs. Gibson and Cynthia off to London by the "Umpire" coach, she almost danced along the street.
"Now, papa!" said she, "I'm going to have you all to myself for a whole week. You must be very obedient."
"Don't be tyrannical, then. You're walking me out of breath, and we're cutting Mrs. Goodenough, in our hurry."
So they crossed over the street to speak to Mrs. Goodenough.
"We've just been seeing my wife and her daughter off to London. Mrs. Gibson has gone up for a week!"
"Deary, deary, to London, and only for a week! Why, I can remember its being a three days' journey! It'll be very lonesome for you, Miss Molly, without your young companion!"
"Yes!" said Molly, suddenly feeling as if she ought to have taken this view of the case. "I shall miss Cynthia very much."
"And you, Mr. Gibson; why, it'll be like being a widower over again! You must come and drink tea with me some evening. We must try and cheer you up a bit amongst us. Shall it be Tuesday?"
In spite of the sharp pinch which Molly gave to his arm, Mr. Gibson accepted the invitation, much to the gratification of the old lady.
"Papa, how could you go and waste one of our evenings! We have but six in all, and now but five; and I had so reckoned on our doing all sorts of things together."