Ernestine was sitting up in the big rocker, in a lovely white wrapper, and a little fancy scarlet sacque. She looked very frail and weak, though very lovely, and much interested when the important question was put to her. The girls had perfect faith in her selection, and waited patiently, as her eyes went from the budding trees outside, to the gleams of sunshine playing across the carpet, then to the bunch of purple pansies in the vase on the table.
"Call it Hearts-ease," she said.
"I told you," cried Kittie. "That's just the name."
"Hearts-ease it is, to the end of the chapter;" exclaimed Kat with a flourish as of benediction.
"Yes, that is lovely—and there comes Walter, I'll go right down and tell him," said Bea, and flitted gayly away.
"A penny for your thoughts, Ernestine," said Kat, watching her eyes go out to the sunshine again with a dreamy smile.
"I was thinking how happy everything was," answered Ernestine slowly. "It's all so lovely. Olive is doing so splendidly in her painting. Bea is so happy. Jean is coming home, and—I am here. I can hardly believe it even now, and I so often wonder if I'm happy enough."
"This will be a gay old household," said Kat briskly, warmed into gayety by the sad tone of the invalid's voice. "Uncle Ridley will make Bea a handsome present I expect."
"How strange and delightful it will be to have Jeanie home, bless her precious little heart," cried Kittie with loving eagerness. "I can hardly wait, and mama seems almost too happy to live."
"Jean has not changed much," said Ernestine. "She is taller and sweeter looking, but just the same dear, quiet little thing. She walks with a cane now, and is perfectly straight. How glad I shall be to see her, I wish she was coming to-day!"