“Oh!”
This was the utterance of the new arrival, as she saw the boy apparently hurl himself over the iron balustrade of the area-steps, and plunge into the dust-hole region beyond. But Bob had long practiced the keeping of his equilibrium, as the polished slat of the iron rail proved, and, instead of dashing out his brains on the stones, he reached the bottom with a bound, and diving into the house, reappeared in a marvellously short space of time at the front-door.
“She’s in the dining-room, Miss,” said Bob, making a rush at the folio, and feasting his eyes the while on the natty fur-trimmed jacket and little furry hat, whose hue harmonised admirably with the wavy dark brown hair, neatly braided up beneath; for the visitor was remarkably well-dressed, and her fresh young face set off everything so well that no one thought of noticing that the dress had been turned, and that the jacket’s rough exterior had certainly last winter been upon the other side.
Bob hurriedly closed the door, and ran into the chilly dining-room with the folio, which he banged down on the table with—
“Here’s Miss Heath, Miss;” and then darted out of the room, leaving the two girls face to face. “They don’t like me to see ’em cuddling,” he said with a grin; and, urged by the enormous amount of vitality that was in him, Bob bounded to the kitchen stairs to slide down, and, directly after, a gritty rubbing noise, made metrical to accompany the shrill whistling of a tune, arose, the result of the fact that Bob Hartnup, the doctor’s boy, who clung to the house with the fidelity of a cat, was cleaning the knives. Bob’s facts were correct, if unrefined in expression, for the two girls flew to each other’s arms, and as they kissed affectionately, each displayed tears in her eyes, while without relinquishing hands, they sat down together near the window.
“No news, Janet?” whispered Richmond. Her visitor shook her head slowly, gazing wistfully the while into her companion’s eyes.
“We must wait, Rich dear. Africa is a horribly great place, and some day we shall hear that he is coming back.”
Richmond Chartley made no reply, but sat gazing straight out through the uncleaned window, as if her large clear eyes were looking straight away over the ocean in search of the man she loved.
“Don’t, don’t, darling; don’t look like that,” whispered the younger girl. “Don’t think all that again. It’s cruel, it’s wicked of them to have said such things. He was too young, and strong, and brave to die.”
“Please God, yes!” said Richmond simply, but with a deep heart-stirring pathos in the tones of her rich voice.