Mrs. Pole received them one by one, kissing them in tears of joy, and with disconnected, inarticulate words of welcome.
In the midst of this little hubbub the carryall and ox cart were heard to start again and roll away in the direction of the barnyard.
Mrs. Pole presented them all, one by one, to Palma, who received each with great kindness, and took the baby to hold in her arms, while its mother, father and all the other children followed Mrs. Pole into the bedrooms to take off their wraps and wash for supper.
Then came the comfortable supper and the chat that accompanied it.
Palma felt fully compensated for her “quixotism.”
When they all bade her good-night and went to their rooms on the ground floor Palma felt too joyful to retire; so she stayed up talking to Mrs. Pole until midnight, and then—even then—when she retired to bed, she was too happy to sleep—too happy in the thought of the happiness she witnessed.
The next morning must have reconciled a more hard-headed man that Cleve Stuart to the quixotism of his wife.
The lawn resounded with the shouts and laughter of the little children, who might have thought, if young children ever think, that they had died in their tenement house and waked up in heaven.
Stuart was as much pleased with the frank, honest face and manner of Joseph Morgan as Palma was with the true, tender, motherly countenance and conversation of Jane Morgan.
On Thursday morning the Stuarts, with The O’Melaghlin and their servants, started for New York, en route for England.