And the girl suddenly ran in and threw herself on her knees beside Constance, almost with a scream:
“I am so glad, I am so glad!” she cried.
“Why?”
“That Uncle wrote to Papa ... that Papa and Mamma have been here ... that everything is all right again.... It was so dreadful; it kept me from sleeping. I kept on thinking about it. It was a sort of nightmare, an obsession. Auntie, dear Auntie, is everything all right now?”
“Yes, certainly, child.”
“Really all right?... Are you coming to us again ... and may I come and see you ... and will you ask me to dinner again soon? Is everything all right, really all right?”
She snuggled up to her aunt like a child, putting her head against Constance’ knees, stroking her hands:
“You will ask me again soon, Auntie, won’t you? I love coming to you, I simply love it. I should have missed it so, I can’t tell you how much....”
Her voice broke, as she knelt by Constance’ side, and she suddenly burst into tears, sobbing out her words so excitedly that Constance was startled, thinking it almost unnatural, absurd:
“I was nearly coming to you before Papa and Mamma had been.... But I didn’t dare.... I was afraid Papa would be angry.... But I can come now, it’s all right now....”