"Oh, thank you, ever so much! That will make everything different; for when I sit sewing in the verandah—I'll do all the sewing—I shall feel that one time I shall look up and see you come riding through the bush, and p'raps—p'raps, if you've nowhere else to go, you'll stop the night. Mother would be pleased."
"There are many more improbable things than that," Tom said.
The children were loud in their lamentations over Jessie's leaving.
"Why can't you stop forever and ever?" Eva demanded.
"Because I've got a mother and father who want me back again."
"It's miles and miles away; we can't come and see you, can we?" said Jack.
"Oh, I don't know. We're three miles back from Wylmington Falls, where people come picnicing in summer time. If you came out there one day you might get on to us."
It did not sound very probable.
"When are you going?" he asked rather drearily.
"The day after to-morrow; they're sending the buggy to fetch me."