"Mean? I don't understand. In what way am I mean—and to whom?"
"To father, of course," was the emphatic answer—at Ellice's amazed repetition of the words. "You are going to spoil all his happiness by taking up this role of being injured. Dad will, of course, want you to like her—the message in his letter is plain enough, 'I hope you will do your best to give us both a welcome'—and all I can say is, whatever you do, I mean to go home and receive them. Come on, Sis, pull yourself together! It doesn't say much for your love for dad, if you set out to cause him trouble like this, and spoil his happiness. Be nice; very likely she won't be half bad. I expect she dreads seeing us quite as much as we dread seeing her. What's the honour of keeping smiling only when things are pleasant? Come on—get over it. I'm off; it's nearly time they arrived."
There was silence for a moment, and Bob stood fidgeting by his sister, then in half-disgusted tones he said:
"I can't wait any longer for you; if you won't come—you won't." And with a quick stride he turned and made his way down the avenue towards home.
For a few minutes longer the struggle for victory went on in Ellice Medhurst's heart, then suddenly she jumped up with the muttered words, "I'll try; Bob must be right." She ran lightly down the path after him, and caught him up at the edge of the wood.
"I'm coming with you," she whispered breathlessly, as she grasped his arm.
"Well done, young 'un!" he answered. "Come on, we must run, or we shall be late."
* * * * *
"Here they come!" shouted Bob, as two figures turned into the drive—a smothered exclamation escaped him as he rushed to the front door.
Ellice did not follow immediately, her knees were shaking, and she felt strung up to such a pitch of mental excitement she hardly felt capable of following Bob at first. Then suddenly she heard her father's voice saying, "Where's Ellice?" The reaction came immediately; she flew to the door, and threw herself blindly into her father's arms with a smothered sob.