Then sitting at his desk, he picked up his morning mail and found on top a letter from his granddaughter.
Opening it, he read,
“Dearest Granddad:
“I am so lonely, so lonely! Won’t you please let me come back to you? There is no one here who can understand. I watch the girls laughing and playing games, but I do not think that I shall ever be able to join them again. I would not mind so much if only they would leave me alone, but Madame Deriby insists that I have a roommate, and there is no one I want to have room with me. Oh, Granddad! What shall I do? Must I stay?
“Your unhappy granddaughter,
“Evelyn.”
“My poor little lassie!” Mr. Dartmoor said as he sat with the letter open in his hand and looked up at the painting. “But Madame Deriby is right! Evelyn should have a companion, some one bright and cheery, yet, some one who could understand.”
At that very moment Mr. Dartmoor saw, in his memory, Carol’s sweet face, and the tears brimming her eyes, as she said, “I did so want to go to boarding-school myself, but I would far rather have my mother.”
“The very thing!” exclaimed Mr. Dartmoor aloud as he rang a bell and ordered his carriage. Soon he was being driven down the country road toward the brown house on the edge of the village.
David upon hearing the wheels in the drive ran to a front room window where he could get a better view. Dorothy skipped to join him and then she called excitedly, “Carol, look quick! Here is your ogre coming to pay you a visit.”