The afternoon was spent by Winnie in driving with her step-mother, who tried in many pleasant ways to atone for the morning's harshness; and so well did she succeed that the little girl's heart ached sorely and quailed at the remembrance of the deceit she was practising. But, she would never do it again, no, never again, and only this once could not be such a very great sin.
So the time passed, and Wednesday came at last, a true winter's day, with snow-mantled earth and keen, hard frost.
"Don't be late in coming for me, Dick," was Winnie's parting injunction, as he saw her safely into the 'bus. "I shall expect you soon after tea." And the boy promised.
The little sister looked after him as he strode briskly away. "What a dear, kind brother he is!" she murmured lovingly. "How should I manage without him? Good old Dick. He is all the world to me." And the boy, tramping along the slippery streets with giant steps, was muttering—"Poor Win! she will fret very much at first, and I shall miss her sorely; but it can't be helped—I must run away."
Meanwhile the 'bus, whirling rapidly through the busy streets, stopped in due time at Broomhill Road, and Winnie, alighting with flushed, expectant face, found Nellie awaiting her eagerly.
"How good of you to come, dear! and how pretty you look!" she said, kissing her little guest affectionately. "I was so pleased to get your note on Monday evening."
"You cannot guess how glad I am to be here, Nellie," replied Winnie simply, slipping her hand through her friend's arm as they walked rapidly along the quiet road. "Your home seems like an Eden to me, and spending a few hours with you all there one of my greatest pleasures."
After this both tongues went merrily till Dingle Cottage was reached, and Winnie stood once more in the snug parlour, listening to the hearty welcomes which fell so pleasantly on her ears. The tiny home wore its usual air of cosy comfort, and the faces of its inmates seemed positively to shine with happiness and content. Aunt Debby's chubby countenance was all aglow, and Aunt Meg's peevish visage, having apparently caught the reflex of her smile, looked very fair and sweet as the invalid turned it brightly towards the youthful visitor.
"A thousand welcomes, child!" cried Miss Deborah delightedly, drawing Winnie to her ample bosom, and treating the girl to a hearty hug (the word, though not eloquent, is singularly expressive); "it is good to see your pretty face again. This is Aunt Meg," pointing to the invalid. "I do not think you have ever met her before." Then Winnie was obliged to cross over to the sofa and shake the thin white hand that looked so small and fragile.
"Is your brother coming for you at night, dear?" inquired Miss Latimer, turning from her seat by the window and giving the young guest a tender, loving glance in answer to a certain wistful look cast in her direction.