CHAPTER XXI.
THE HIGH MOUNTAINS.
Helen and Polly slept late on the following morning. They were both awakened simultaneously by Nurse, who, holding baby in her arms, came briskly into the room. Nurse was immediately followed by Alice, bearing a tray with an appetizing breakfast for both the little girls.
“The Doctor says you are neither of you to get up until you have had a good meal,” said Nurse. “And, Miss Polly, he’d like to have a word with you, darling, in his study about eleven o’clock. Eh, dear, but it’s blessed and comforting to have the dear man home again; the house feels like itself, and we may breathe now.”
“And it’s blessed and comforting to have one we wot of away again,” retorted Alice. “The young ladies will be pleased, won’t they, Nurse?”
“To be sure they will. You needn’t look so startled, loveys, either of you. It’s only your aunt and the dog what is well quit of the house. They’re on their road to Bath now, and long may they stay there.”
At this news Helen looked a little puzzled, and not very joyful, but Polly instantly sat up in bed and spoke in very bright tones.
“What a darling father is! I’m as hungry as possible. Give me my breakfast, please, Alice; and oh, Nurse, mightn’t baby sit between us for a little in bed?”
“You must support her back well with pillows,” said Nurse. “And see as you don’t spill any coffee on her white dress. Eh! then, isn’t she the sweetest and prettiest lamb in all the world?”
The baby, whose little white face had not a tinge of color, and whose very large velvety brown eyes always wore a gentle, heavenly calm about them, smiled in a slow way. When she smiled she showed dimples, but she was a wonderfully grave baby, as though she knew something of the great loss which had accompanied her birth.