“Well, I have put the baby to sleep at last! Little witch! she wanted to laugh and crow and kick all night. Such a time as I had getting her quiet! But where have you two been? You look—just as if you had come from a circus!” said Jennie.
“So we have! or rather from a domestic drama!” exclaimed Hetty, laughing; and then she told her daughter all about the sudden return of Samson Longman, and the joy of his mother.
Jennie listened in sympathetic delight.
“And now, my dear, you may come in the kitchen and help me to bring in the tea. Elspeth has forgotten that there is any such thing as tea in the world. And who can blame her!” exclaimed Hetty as she left the room attended by her daughter.
It was, indeed, nearly an hour beyond their usual tea time.
The tea was drawn too much, and the muffins were baked too dry; nevertheless, father, mother, and daughter enjoyed the refreshment.
There was a good-sized dining-room in the rear of the house on the other side of the hall, but for reasons of economy it was not used in cold weather, as it would require another fire, the meals being served in the family sitting-room or parlor.
Now, however, as soon as the curate and his family arose from the tea, his wife said:
“Jimmy, we must be kind. The kindlings and coal are all laid in the grate of the back room ready for lighting a fire when required. Do, dear, go and start it; and Jennie and I will clear off this tea table, and set another in there for Elspeth and her big boy to take their tea comfortably; for it is not every day that a prodigal son returns.”
“And you just know how it is yourselves, don’t you, papa and mamma?” inquired the prodigal daughter, tenderly.