“I may as well,” said Allison. “It is some one from Nethermuir, I suppose,” she thought as she went up the stair.
So she came down quite unprepared to find John Beaton standing in the middle of the room, with his eyes fixed on the door. They stood for a moment looking at one another, and then their hands met, but not a word of greeting passed between them. Then Allison sat down, and John took a turn up and down the room.
“I heard from my brother that you were coming home for your mother, but I did not think it was to be so soon,” said Allison.
“It is the best time for me to leave my work. It is rather early in the season for my mother, I am afraid. But the voyage is shorter than it used to be, and she can have every comfort.”
“She will be glad to go,” said Allison.
“Yes, for some reasons. But at her age, changes are neither easy nor welcome. Still, I am sure she will be glad to go.”
“You have something to tell me about my brother,” said Allison.
“Yes, I have much to tell you—and nothing but good.”
“I was thankful when I heard that he was to go back again to Mr Strong’s house. It has been like home to him a long time. Did he send a letter to me?”
“Yes—but it is a very little one. I am to tell you all the news,” said John, taking from his pocketbook a tiny, folded paper. Allison opened it and read: