On returning to the reception room, Jenny suggested that she would better go at once to the farmhouse that she might be there to welcome Lenora and the nurse. Charles agreed that the plan was a good one, and so, tenderly kissing her friend, Jenny went out; the young man opening the door for her.
When she had driven away, Charles returned to his sister, who smiled up at him faintly as she said: “Wasn’t I right, Charles? Isn’t Jenny the sweetest, dearest girl you ever saw?”
But her brother shook his head. “No, indeed,” he said, emphatically, taking one of the listless hands from the arm of the chair. “The sweetest, dearest girl in this world to me is your very own self, and, although I am quite willing to like any girl whom you may select as a best friend, you will never get me to acknowledge that she is sweeter than my very own sister. However, I will agree that I am pleased with Miss Jenny Warner to the extent of being willing, even glad, to have you in the same house with her until you are strong enough to travel to our home with me. I’ll wire Dad tonight. I have purposely kept your illness from him. It would be unwise for him to come here at this time of the year. We cannot both be away from the farm at seeding time.”
The nurse reappeared, saying the coach was waiting. The young giant of a lad lifted his sister and carried her out of the seminary which she was indeed glad to leave.
Jenny and her grandmother were on the side porch of the picturesque adobe farmhouse when Charles Gale on horseback rode up, immediately followed by the closed carriage. Susan Warner with tender pity in her face and voice, welcomed the pale girl, who was lifted out of the conveyance by the strong arms of her brother. Lenora’s sweet gray eyes were brimmed with tears and her lips trembled when she tried to thank the old woman for her great kindness. “There, there, dearie. Don’t try to be sayin’ anything now. You’re all petered out with the ride.” Then cheerily: “Jenny’ll show you where to fetch little Lenora, Mister—” she hesitated and the girl at her side hastened to say: “Grandma Sue, this is Charles Gale, Lenora’s brother. Miss Granger had sent for him.”
The pleasant-faced young man bowed as he apologized for his inability to remove his hat. His sister having recovered from her first desire to cry, smilingly did it for him. “Haven’t I a giant for a brother?” she asked; then holding out a frail hand to the nurse, who had descended from the carriage carrying the wraps and a satchel. Lenora said: “Mrs. Warner, this is Miss Adelaide Wells, who has been very kind to me.” Then, as memory of the place she had left surged over her, the tears again came: “Oh, brother,” she half sobbed, clinging to him, “promise me I’ll never, never have to be sent to a seminary again.”
“Why, of course not,” he assured her. “When I have finished my schooling you and I will go back to our farm home and stay there forever and forever. If you need any further instruction, I can help you, so put that fear quite out of your thought.”
The girl smiled, but seemed too weak to make a reply. Charles followed Jenny through the kitchen and the cheerful living room into the bedroom which had been decked in so festive a fashion only that morning. After the nurse had put Lenora to bed, she returned to the seminary. The weary girl rested for a while with her eyes closed, then she opened them and looked about her.
She found Jenny sitting quietly by her bedside just waiting. Lenora smiled without speaking and seemed to be listening to the rush of the waves on the rocks, then she said: “That is the lullabye I once said I would like to hear in the night. It’s like magic, having it all come to pass.”
She smiled around at the flowers. “How sweet they are! I know that each one tells me some message of the thoughtfulness and love of my friend.” Holding out a frail hand, Lenora continued: “Jenny Warner, if I live, I am going to do something to make you glad that you have been so kind to me.”