The next morning was bright and sunny, with a gladness in the air, a song of spring. It was the first of April, and even in London it was a glorious day.
"I won't even think the thought, 'What it would be like at Kilbrannan,'" Nell declared to Denis, when she met him on her way down to breakfast, "because—shan't we soon be there?" She broke out singing:—
"'There blooms a bonny flower,
Up the heather glen;
Tho' bright in sun, in shower
'Tis just as bright again.
I never can pass by it,
I never dar' go nigh it,
My heart it won't be quiet,
Up the heather glen.
Sing O, the blooming heather!
O, the heather glen!
Where fairest fairies gather
To lure in mortal men—'"
She broke off; she turned to him on the last stair, hung on to his arm.
"Denis, if only, only we might tell them! My hair fairly rises with the weight of the secret! I know Sheila Pat is wondering what has come to us!"
"Eileen, come in to breakfast!"
They went in. On the table there lay a great pile of letters. Molly and the Atom came hurrying in; Denis tossed letters to them all, and kept a few himself.
"I cannot understand why there are so many letters this morning," Miss Kezia observed. She looked round the table, surprised.
"Why do you not open them?" she asked.
"Anticipation is the soul of wit!" observed Denis, absurdly.