"O Anna, I wish you hadn't," cried Kitty, greatly distressed lest the mention of the old trouble should be too agitating for her aunt. But, to her surprise, Mrs. Pike looked up with such pleasure in her eyes as had not been seen in them for a very long time.
"Have you really, Anna?" she cried gladly. "Oh, I am so thankful, child. That will do me more good than anything," and she drew Anna down to her and kissed her very tenderly. "Yes, dear," with an understanding of Anna's feelings such as she had never shown before, "you shall go away to school for a time. You shall go to Miss Pidsley's next term, if you like. I am sure it is the best plan."
So Anna went away to school, and Aunt Pike moved into her new home in time to receive her on her return for the Christmas holidays. A nurse-companion was engaged to live with Mrs. Pike and take care of her; but never a day passed but what Kitty went to sit with her, to tell her the news or ask her advice. The others went frequently too—Tony regularly, and Dan daily when he was at home. Betty went sometimes, but not so gladly, for she never quite got over the fright of that dreadful day, and a terrible lurking dread that she might accidentally shock her aunt again, and once more hear that strange, far-away voice, and see her falling, falling. But Kitty never failed; and Kitty was, perhaps, the best beloved of them all by the aunt who had tried, and been so tried by, them.
"You see, Kitty was the only one who willingly kissed me and called me 'dear,'" the poor invalid confessed one day to the doctor as they sat together in the firelight talking over many things—"the only one since Michael died; and cold, reserved folk such as I remember these things."
"She has a warm heart has my Kitty," said the doctor softly, "and a generous one;" then, fearing as usual the effect of any emotion on the invalid, "She told me that if I came here I was to look about me and see if she had left her gloves about. She thinks she lost one on the way here, but may have dropped the other in the house, as she is almost certain she had one with her. It doesn't much matter, though; they were very full of holes, oddly enough," with a smile.
Aunt Pike's mouth twitched a little at the corners as she opened her work-basket and took out two rather shabby gloves. "One was under the table; some one picked up the other in the garden. They are not holey now; I have mended them. But I expect Kitty would never find it out if you did not tell her."
"A year or two ago she would not have," said her father, as he took the gloves and put them in his pocket, "but I think she would now."
"She has changed," said Aunt Pike gently. "We all have."
"Yes, she has changed—in some respects; in others I hope she never may."
"I think you need not fear that, John," said Aunt Pike sympathetically. Silence fell on them both for a few moments, then Mrs. Pike spoke again. "John, will you be sure to tell Kitty to come here to-morrow, and Dan and all of them in fact, to welcome Anna home for the Christmas holidays? I have a surprise in store for them too, but you mustn't breathe a word of it. Pamela is coming too, to spend part of her holidays with us. I thought she would do Anna good. Then perhaps you would like to have her with you for the rest of the time. We mustn't forget that she was Kitty's friend first. But don't you breathe a word of this to Kitty."