Netta had been away three weeks when one morning, just as they were sitting down to breakfast, she suddenly came into the room. With a cry of joy Hilda ran into her arms.
"You wicked, wicked girl!" she exclaimed. "I know that I ought not to speak to you. You don't deserve that I should even look at you, but I cannot help it."
Miss Purcell embraced her niece more soberly, but Hilda saw by the expression of her face that her niece's return relieved her of a burden of anxiety which at times she had had difficulty in concealing.
"In the first place, Netta, before I even give you a cup of tea, tell me if this is a final return, or whether you are going to disappear again."
"That we will decide after you have heard my story," Netta said quietly.
"And have you got any news of Walter?"
"I am not sure; I think so. So you have kept my secret, aunt?"
"I promised that I would, dear, and of course I have kept my word, though it was very difficult to resist Hilda's pleading. Dr. Leeds, too, has been terribly anxious about you, and not a day has passed that he has not run in for a few minutes to learn if there was any news."
"I don't see why he should have known that I have been away."
"Why, my dear," Hilda said, "coming here as often as he does, he naturally inquired where you were, and as I was uncertain how long you would be away, and as he had always been in our counsels, I could hardly keep him in the dark, even had I wished to do so. Now, my dear, let us know all about it; there can be no possible reason for keeping silent any longer."