Doctor Fleming smiled.
“Yes, that is quite true; if I were only sure as to what is her duty, I would set it before her clearly. I will speak to her, however, since you wish it, but I will let a few days pass first.”
That night Robert Hume looked in upon Allison, as was his custom now and then. Marjorie’s letter lay on the table.
“There is no bad news, I hope?” said he as he met Allison’s glance.
“No. Marjorie would like me to come ‘home,’ as she calls it. Or, if that canna be, she would like to come here.”
“She could hardly come here, but you should go to the manse. You must go when spring comes.”
“I would like to go for some reasons. But—I would like to see my Marjorie, and the sight of your mother would do me good, and yet I canna think of going with any pleasure. But I may feel differently when the spring comes.”
“You went back to your auld wives too soon,” said Robin.
“No, it is not that. If I am not fit to go to them, what am I fit for?” And, to Robert’s consternation, the tears came into her eyes.
“Allie,” said he, “come away home to my mother.”