Miss Kelly agreed placidly. When she had gone, Spencer stood a moment beside Catherine, his eyes intent on her face; Catherine saw a wavering tenseness in his look. He wanted to hurl himself at her, and he didn't want to. She couldn't reach out for him, if he felt too grown-up for such expression. She smiled at him, and with a huge sigh he settled into the wicker chair, one foot curled beneath him.
"She was glad to go home, wasn't she?" he said.
"I'm glad she went," announced Marian. "She bosses me."
"Good for you," said Spencer. "Mother, read us 'Treasure Island.' I'm sick of old fairies."
Margaret came in, her ring waking Letty. Catherine laughed at the unconcealed expectancy with which the children welcomed their aunt.
"You've ruined them," she said, as Marian danced up the hall, her eyes wide with anticipation for the packages Margaret carried.
"Well, they are delighted to see their old aunt, anyway!" Margaret dropped to the floor, scattering the bundles, her hands held over them in teasing delay.
"Your dress, Marg! On the floor in that?"
"Just a rag. Here, Letitia, your turn first."