"Good news to-day; mother is really better; and Dr. Forman thinks she may soon be as well as she was before this last attack of illness."
Good news indeed! If any little girl who reads Dorothy's story has ever had to feel the weight upon her heart which a dear father's or mother's illness has caused, she will know how, when the burden is lifted, and the welcome words are spoken, like Canon Percival's, all the world seems bright and joyful, and hope springs up like a fountain within.
"Yes," Canon Percival said, as Dorothy threw her arms round his neck, "we may be very thankful and glad; and now, while I go and see Lady Burnside, will you get ready to take me to visit the old town, and——"
"Giulia, and the old woman, and Anton!" exclaimed Dorothy.
Oh yes! the children were soon ready, and they all set off towards the old town, all except Willy, who had to wait for Mr. Martyn, and who looked with longing eyes at the party as they walked away.
"Bother this horrid sum!" he said; "it won't come right. What's the use of asking such ridiculous questions? Who cares about the answer?"
But Willy got the answer right in spite of his grumbling, and had the pleasure of hearing Mr. Martyn tell his grandmother that he had improved very much of late, and that he would take a good place at a school when he was sent to one.
It was a lovely spring morning, that beautiful spring of the sunny South, which comes early in the year with a sudden burst of flowers of all colours. All the acacias and mimosas in the gardens before the villas were waving their golden tassels in the breeze, and the scarlet anemones and the yellow narcissi were making a carpet under foot.
Dorothy danced along in the gladness of her heart, and Canon Percival, when he thought of what might have been, felt thankful and glad also. As they climbed the steep street leading to the square before the big church, a little white dog with brown ears toddled out.
"Oh, that is the dog I thought was Nino! How could I think so?" Dorothy exclaimed; "his legs are so ugly, and he has such a mean little tail. Ah! my poor Nino was beautiful when compared with you," she said, stooping down to pat the little dog. "And, Uncle Crannie," she said, "do you remember that sad, dreadful day, when you took me to see mother, you said you had something to tell me about Nino, and then you left off."