"Mother is a dear and lovely as ever. I wish I had not made her cry last week. I own I was horrid."
"Oh Gwen! You don't know what it is to be without Mother."
"I'm thankful I don't," said Gwen energetically. "If Mother had seen this place before you married Luke she would never have let you come. By-the-bye, I suppose that funny little creature that opened the door for us is not Polly who you write about?"
"Yes, she is Polly. We are great friends."
"But she is not the only one?"
"Of course she is. Why you don't suppose this tiny house requires more than one servant do you?"
"But that minute specimen cannot do all that is needed by herself."
"Of course not. I help her. Now don't be stupid Gwen; tell me some more about home."
Gwen shut her mouth indicative of intense disapproval for a moment; then she began to talk of Heathland; and Rachel listening, could almost feel the wind blowing over the moors, and see the hedges just touched with hoarfrost in the morning. She pictured her Mother walking about the garden with her pretty soft shady hat which they all thought suited her so well, or lying on the cane sofa in the verandah speaking to the old gardener in her low musical voice. The vision of her was so vivid that the tears rushed into Rachel's eyes, and would have fallen had it not been for Gwen's presence. She was determined that the tiresome child should not have any excuse for supposing she was not as happy as a queen.
It was at supper that Luke met the 'young person' as he called her, and had to confess to himself that he was more alarmed at her than she was of him.