"Oh, Jack, how splendid! Oh, I am so glad! I knew it would come—the chance—if you only had patience, and you surely have had it. How happy Hilda will be!"
"Yes," said Jack, soberly. "I owe it to Hilda, every bit of it, as I owe several other things. This, for example."
"This?" repeated Bell. "Meaning the porridge?"
She spoke lightly, yet there was an undertone of feeling in her voice.
"The porridge, and all the rest of it," said Jack. "The place, the life, the friends, the happiness, and—you—all!"
It might have been noted that the "all" was added after a moment's pause, as if it were an afterthought.
"Dear Hilda!" said Bell, softly. "We all owe her a very great deal."
"If it had not been for Hildegarde Grahame," said Jack, "I should have grown up a savage."
"Oh! no, you would not, Jack."
"Yes, I should, Bell. When I first came to Roseholme, I was just at the critical time. I adored my father, who was an angel,—too much of one to understand a mere human boy. I came to please him, and at first I didn't get hold of Uncle Tom at all, nor he of me. He thought me an ass,—well, he was right enough there,—and I thought him a bear and a brute. I was on the point of running away and starting out on my own account, my fiddle and I against the world, when I met Hilda, and she changed life from an enemy into a friend."