“Exactly at eight minutes to three—oh, I know the time to-day without mistake—the door opened, and in came Mrs. Macfarlane; and do you know what she did?”
“She didn't!” cried Hatchard—“not kissed you?”
“Yes, she did, and a real kiss; and she took me in her arms, and I saw tears in her eyes, and—and... I cried for a minute; I couldn't help it, and it was quite a comfort. She hadn't said a word all this time, and that was just right, wasn't it?”
“I'll never say a word against the Scots' manner again,” said Tom huskily.
“But she spoke quite beautifully afterwards, and told me of some trials no one knows, which they had ten years ago, and how they had never loved one another so much before. When reticent people give you their confidence it touches your heart, and we used to think her voice harsh, and to laugh at her accent.”
“God forgive me!” said Thomas: “I'm a fool.”
“She said: 'You know how quiet Ronald is, and how he hardly ever gets enthusiastic. Well, it would have done you good to have heard him speak about Mr. Hatchard this morning. He said...'”
“Don't tell me, Amy—it... hurts; but I'm grateful all the same, and will never forget it. And who came next?”
“Mrs. Oxley; and what do you think? We are to have their house at Hoylake for August, so the chicks will have their holiday. Mr. Oxley has been quite cast down, she says, about you, for he has such a respect——”
“It's good of them to think about the children, but never mind about me.”