"Yes," said Ellen, looking up with a face on which there were both smiles and tears.
George seized her hand and shook it warmly, while Charles shouted for joy; and in the exuberance of his delight, threw his ball first to the ceiling and then across the room, making it pass in its second transit so near Mrs. Wallace's head that the old lady started and dropped her knitting.
"And what shall I tell Mary, Ellen?" asked Mr. Wallace.
"That she must come to me, sir."
"I shall say that you have not forgotten her."
"Forgotten Mary!" exclaimed Ellen; "oh no—tell her I never thought so much of her goodness to me or loved her so dearly as I do now. Oh, how happy I shall be when she comes!—but I cannot leave Aunt Herbert," and Ellen again put her arm around her aunt's neck.
"You are my daughter now, and daughters, you know, do not leave their mothers willingly even for their sisters," said Mrs. Herbert, with an affectionate smile.
Ellen returned the smile as she answered, "Yes, and that is not all."
"What more is there, Ellen?" asked Mr. Wallace.
"Why, I first learned to be happy here, sir; and I am afraid if I went away, that—that—"