That Easter Sunday the family were assembled around the table in the pleasant breakfast room of their house, which looked out upon the circle, where already the parterres were brilliant and fragrant with the earliest spring flowers—hyacinths, pink, blue and white; daffodils golden; tulips flame and fire color; jonquils, like golden cups in silver saucers; bridal wreath; yellow currant burning bush—all budding, but not yet blooming. All the grass of a tender emerald green. All the trees just bursting into leaf. Birds singing only as they sing on a spring morning.
“What a beautiful Easter Sunday is this! Not a cloud in all the sky!” said Odalite, as she turned from the window to take her seat at the table.
Mr. Force stood up to ask a blessing, but the doorbell rang sharply and he sat down again.
And before any one could put a question the door flew open and Le rushed in like the wind.
Every one jumped so suddenly from the table that chairs were overturned in their haste to welcome the wanderer.
There followed much handshaking, hugging and kissing, rather mixed and confused, until Le found Odalite in his arms. Then he came to a stop and held her there while he answered questions.
“Hadn’t an idea your ship was near port. When did you get in?” inquired Mr. Force.
“Anchored yesterday at half-past two, got leave, and caught the three train. Hadn’t time to telegraph, or even to pack a portmanteau. Can any one lend me the loan of a clean change of linen?” inquired Le, with a look of distress.
“Of course! You shall go to my room and help yourself. But you don’t look much in want,” replied his uncle.
“Now sit down, Le. We were just about to begin breakfast when you came in,” said Mrs. Force, as the manservant in attendance placed another chair at the table for the newcomer.