Drawing her hand under his arm, he held it firmly in his own. Christie made a great effort to control herself, and the face which she soon turned towards her friend had grown wonderfully brighter for the tears that fell.
“Effie bade me notice how you looked and what you said; and I’m afraid she’ll no’ be pleased to hear that I got such a tearful welcome,” said John, with his grave smile.
“Oh, Effie will understand. Why, it’s almost like seeing Effie herself to see you, John!” she repeated, giving him a tearful smile. She felt sure it was a true friend’s hand that pressed hers so warmly as she spoke.
“But where are you going, Christie?” asked John.
“Oh, I forgot; we are past the place.” But her face grew grave in a moment. “When did you come, John? and how long are you going to stay?”
“I came yesterday, and I shall stay no longer than I can help. I have had enough of this dusty town for once. I wonder how you ever stayed so long in it, Christie.”
“I wonder myself, whiles,” she said gravely; “but it won’t be long now.”
“Are they better at your house? Will they spare you to go home with me?”
“There is no one ill now. Did you hear—” But Christie’s voice was lost in the remembrance of little Harry and the baby.
“Yes, we heard. You must have had a sad time, poor lassie! But the remembrance of these precious little ones cannot be altogether sorrowful, Christie?”