“We will send for them,” said Graeme, through her tears.
“I don’t know. I think not. It would grieve them, and I can bear so little now. And we were so happy the last time. I think they had best not come, Graeme.”
But the words were slow to come, and her eyes turned, oh! so wistfully, to her sister’s face, who had no words with which to answer.
“Sometimes I dream of them, and when I waken, I do so long to see them,” and the tears gathered slowly in her eyes. “But it is as well as it is, perhaps. I would rather they would think of me as I used to be, than to see me now. No, Graeme, I think I will wait.”
In the pause that followed, she kissed her sister softly many times.
“It won’t be long. And, Graeme—I shall see our mother first—and you must have patience, and wait. We shall all get safe home at last—I am quite, quite sure of that.”
A step was heard at the door, and Mrs Snow entered.
“Weel, bairns!” was all she said, as she sat down beside them. She saw that they were both much moved, and she laid her kind hand caressingly on the hair of the eldest sister, as though she knew she was the one who needed comforting.
“Have the bairns come?” asked Menie.
“No, dear, I bade them bide till I went down the brae again. Do you want them home?”