“Letters,” said Graeme and Rose, in a breath.
“One a piece. Good news, I hope. I shall soon be back again, Miss Rose, with Dandy.”
Graeme’s letter was from Will, written after having heard of his sisters being in Merleville, before he had heard of Mrs Snow’s recovery. He had thought once of coming home with Mr Millar, he said, but had changed his plans, partly because he wished to accept an invitation he had received from his uncle in the north, and partly for other reasons. He was staying at present with Mrs Millar, who was “one of a thousand,” wrote Will, with enthusiasm, “and, indeed, so is, her son, Mr Ruthven, but you know Allan, of old.” And then he went on to other things.
Graeme read the letter first herself, and then to Mrs Snow and Rose. In the midst of it Mr Snow came in. Rose had read hers, but held it in her hand still, even after they had ceased to discuss Will’s.
“It is from Fanny,” said she, at last. “You can read it to Mrs Snow, if you like, Graeme. It is all about baby and his perfections; or nearly all. I will go and put on my habit for my ride. Uncle Sampson come with me, won’t you? Have you anything particular to do to-day?”
“To ride?” said Mr Snow. “I’d as lieve go as not, and a little rather—if you’ll promise to take it moderate. I should like the chaise full better than the saddle, I guess, though.”
Rose laughed.
“I will promise to let you take it moderate. I am not afraid to go alone, if you don’t want to ride. But I shouldn’t fancy the chaise to-day. A good gallop is just what I want, I think.”
She went to prepare for her ride, and Graeme read Fanny’s letter. It was, as Rose had said, a record of her darling’s pretty sayings and doings, and gentle regrets that his aunts could not have the happiness of being at home to watch his daily growth in wisdom and beauty. Then there were a few words at the end.
“Harry is properly indignant, as we all are, at your hint that you may see Norman and Hilda, before you see home again. Harry says it is quite absurd to speak of such a thing, but we have seen very little of him of late. I hope we may see more of him now that his friend and partner has returned. He has been quite too much taken up with his little Amy, to think of us. However, I promised Mr Millar I would say nothing of that bit of news. He must tell you about it himself. He has a great deal of Scottish news, but I should only spoil it by trying to tell it; and I think it is quite possible that Harry may fulfil his threat, and come for you himself. But I suppose he will give you fair warning,” and so on.