"Mother, mother," she called back over her shoulder. "Here's Uncle Tom come to see us," and the next instant Eva's arms were round her uncle's neck.
And Clarissa, a younger, rosier, happier Clarissa, came hurrying up behind.
"But Tom, how naughty of you not to let us know you were coming," she said when the first greetings were over, "not to have given me the joy of anticipation and of preparation. Now you will have to take just what you can get. I've improved your prophet's chamber though, since you lived in it. I've added a little writing-table and an easy chair. Life has taken a different colour altogether since last you came."
And so she chatted on as she hurried on her preparations for tea, giving her brother no time for explanations.
"I hope you've come to stop a long, long time," she said at last.
"I've come to spend my holiday with you. I've not had one since I came to the colony, and suddenly felt in need of it."
"And that's six weeks and sometimes seven in the summer time," said Eva clapping her hands.
"I was quite flattered that you remembered me, Eva; you were such a tiny mite when I left, a round dumpling of a niece, and now you have grown into a little girl, with a pig-tail down your back."
"I couldn't forget," said Eva, "when mother talks of you every day and your likeness looks at me as I go to sleep. Why I say good-night to you, same as if you were there."
"I think I'll go over and see them at the farm," said Tom, when tea was ended. "I want to surprise them as I surprised you, and you can come with me, Eva, and see your chum."