Aunt Mary's fingers wandered vaguely over the piano for a few minutes, and then she began to sing:
"Oft in the stilly night
Ere slumber's chain hath bound me,
Fond memory brings the light
Of other days around me."
It seemed to Mollie that she could hear the silvery tinkle of Prue's musical-box again, and see Papa's kind blue eyes.
As she listened to the music and gazed into the misty garden, she saw, as she thought, the boys standing in the shadow of the black Cedar of Lebanon across the way. She leaned forward, wondering why they lingered there so silently. It was not easy to see in the on-coming darkness—surely there were three figures, and two of them looked like girls. Her heart gave a sudden jump—yes, she could plainly make out two girls and a boy. She slipped through the window and crossed the terraced drive.
* * * * *
There they were—dear Prue, with Grizzel clinging to one arm, and Hugh in the background—oh, how Mollie longed to keep them!
"I was thinking of you, Prue," she said eagerly, "I wanted you so much.
If you could only stay!"
Prue shook her head, with a smile. "No, we have only come to say good-bye, Mollie. Your Time-travelling is over for this time, you won't come to our Time any more. Did you like it?"
"I loved it," Mollie answered fervently, not pausing to ask herself whether it was the Time or the children that she had loved. "If only it could be now, Prue, so that you could stay!"
But Prue shook her head again: "We've got to go. Perhaps some day we will meet again—Time-travellers often do. I think that's why—that's why——" she knit her pretty brows in the effort to express a difficult thought.