Denis said blandly, "Put the blame on the postman, and the cap will fit him like a glove."
Nell volunteered sweetly:—
"They're letters from Melbourne, Aunt Kezia! Mother is quite well and strong—quite brown and well and strong!"
"I am glad to hear it, but surely you could have read them after breakfast."
The gaiety was quenched momentarily by the sheer force of the surprise that invaded them. Silence reigned, while their thoughts worked rapidly over the waiting of the last months—the impatient suspense of the last days, as the time drew near the date on which they had calculated they could get their first Australian mail. Nell eyed Miss Kezia with a hint of soberness in her face.
Tucking Denis into his coat a little later, she said, "I pity her."
"Who? Our austere relative?"
She nodded; then tapped her brow and her left side suggestively.
"There must be something wanting somewhere."
"A good deal," laughed he, amused.