“Oh, Aunt Betty, Aunt Betty!” cried Dorothy, as she leaped from the carriage and dashed across the lawn toward the steps, followed more leisurely by Jim. “I just can’t wait to get to you!”
Aunt Betty gave an hysterical little laugh and folded the girl in her arms with such a warmth of affection that tears sprang into Dorothy’s eyes.
“My dear, dear child!” was all the old lady could say. Then her lip began to tremble and she seemed on the verge of crying.
Dorothy took the aged face between her two hands and kissed it repeatedly. She forgot that Jim was standing near, waiting for a greeting—forgot everything except that she was home again, with Mrs. Elisabeth Cecil Somerset-Calvert, the best and dearest aunt in the world, to love and pet her.
“Break away! Break away!” cried Jim, after a moment, forcing a note of gayety into his voice for Aunt Betty’s sake. “Give a fellow a chance for a kiss, won’t you, Dorothy?”
“Certainly, Jim; I’d forgotten you were with me,” was the girl’s response.
“You, as well as Dorothy, are a sight for sore eyes,” cried Aunt Betty, pleased at the warm embrace and hearty kiss of her one-time protégé.
“And we’re glad to be here, you bet!” Jim replied. “A long, tiresome journey, that, Aunt Betty, I tell you! The sight of old Bellvieu is almost as refreshing as a good night’s sleep, and that’s something I stand pretty badly in need of about now. And just gaze at Dorothy, Aunt Betty! Isn’t she looking well?”
“A perfect picture of health, Jim. Had I met her in a crowd in a strange city, I doubt if I should have known her.”