"I am quite sure that I am not feeling worse than I have done for the last six weeks," replied Mrs Herbert; "and I suspect the sight of your papa's handwriting would do more towards my cure than all the physicians in the world. I hoped to have heard from him by the same mail which brought the news of peace."
"Perhaps," said Amy, "the letter will come to-morrow."
"Oh no!" replied Mrs Herbert; "it is scarcely possible—I must be contented to wait. But you had better go now, Amy—there is the second dinner-bell."
Amy left the room much relieved. A natural buoyancy of disposition seldom allowed her to be unnecessarily anxious. She was too young to form any judgment of her own respecting the state of her mother's health; and Mrs Herbert's assurances outweighed the passing influence of her uncle's misgivings. She did, however, look oftener than ever to the door during the evening, with a vague expectation that her father would appear: and she persuaded Mr Cunningham to repeat again to her all he had before said of the probability of his arrival at any moment; while Mrs Herbert, also, listened eagerly, and laughed at herself for being as fanciful as Amy, though her heart beat quickly at the slightest unusual sound in the house.
"There is the second day happily over, Amy," said Dora, as she bade her good night: "and now I have no more fears; we shall do very well to-morrow. Frank has been proposing for us all to assist in ornamenting the outer saloon for the conjurer, and Mary Warner can show us how to make artificial flowers—so we shall have plenty of occupation; and in the evening I really think we may make up a quadrille. You know there are several people coming besides; and Emily Morton will play as long as we like. The only thing that worries me is about Julia and Lucy Cunningham; they are exactly like cat and dog."
"I daresay we can manage to keep them separate," replied Amy. "If Margaret will take care of Miss Cunningham, there will be no difficulty at all."
"But they will get together," said Dora. "And really, though I do cordially dislike—not hate, remember, Amy,—though I do cordially dislike Lucy Cunningham, yet I must say Julia behaves infamously; she has been snapping at her the whole evening; and, moreover, almost laughed at Mr Cunningham to her face."
"Oh no!" exclaimed Amy, "she could not do that; it would be so dreadfully unfeeling."
"But she could, though; she could do that or anything else that came to her head. You know she sets up for being clever, and thinks she may have everything her own way. I wish you would talk to her, Amy."
"Me!" repeated Amy, in a tone of the utmost surprise; "you are laughing at me, Dora."