The next morning promised a perfect day, and Hester, Annie, and Nan met in high spirits in the breakfast-room. The post had not yet arrived, but a letter was lying on Hester's plate.
"That's in dad's writing," said Nan, going up and examining it critically; "now what's up?"
Hester took the letter and opened it. It contained a few brief words. She read them with a sinking of heart which she could not account for—
"My Dear Hetty,—Your young companions will make the house quite gay for you. I shall, therefore, take the opportunity of going from home for a few days. I will send you a line to let you know when you may expect me back.—Your affectionate father, John Thornton.
"P.S.—I shall have left before you are down in the morning. Give my love to Nan, and wish Miss Forest good-bye for me. By the way, she is interested in Australia, so will you show her where Henry Kingsley's novels are to be found in the library?"
Nan, who had been peeping over Hester's shoulder while she was reading, now suddenly clapped her hands, shouted "hurrah" at the top of her voice, and, running up to Annie, began to waltz round and round the breakfast-table with her.
"Oh, oh!" she exclaimed, "then little girls may be heard as well as seen. Annie, there are two proverbs which are the bane of my life. I wonder dad has not had them both illuminated and framed and hung up in my nursery. One of them is: 'Little girls should be seen and not heard.' What a detestable old prig the person must have been who invented that proverb! I ask you, Annie, what would life be without little girls and their chatter? The other proverb is nearly as objectionable. This is it: 'Make a page of your own age.' According to dad, that only applies to little girls, and it means that they must always be fagging round, hunting for slippers and spectacles and newspapers and books for the older people who are past the age for paging, and that no one is ever to wait on them, however tired or however disinclined to stir they may happen to be. Now there'll be no one to make me page, and no one to keep me silent. Oh, hurrah, hurrah, hurrah! what a dear old dad to absent himself in this obliging manner."
"For my part, I am very sorry," said Annie, for Hester had passed her on the letter to read.
Hester said nothing, and breakfast began, Nan wasting as usual a prodigal amount of energy and spirits even over the operation of eating, Hester looking a little pale and a little thoughtful, Annie in a state of suppressed high spirits, which a slight awe which she still felt at times for Hester Thornton kept rather in check.