"No, not at all, it is not likely they will arrive until near our dinner hour—if they come at all to-day, and if they should be there earlier, Violet is quite capable of entertaining them."
"Yes," said Mrs. Dinsmore, "I know of no one more competent to minister to the enjoyment of either grown people or children. As regards talent, sweetness of disposition, and utter unselfishness combined, our Vi is one in a thousand."
"Thank you, mamma, for saying it," Elsie said, her eyes shining with pleasure. "She seems all that to me; but I thought it might be that mother love magnified her good qualities and made me blind to her imperfections."
Violet, in the nursery at home, was showing herself worthy of these encomiums by her efforts to amuse the little ones and keep them from missing the dear mother who had been so constantly with them of late. She played quiet little games with them, told them beautiful stories, showed them pictures and drew others for them, dressed dolls for Rosie and cut paper horses for Walter.
Several hours were passed thus, then seeing them begin to look weary—for they were still weak from their recent illness—she coaxed them to lie down while she sang them to sleep.
The closed eyes and soft breathing telling that they slept, she rose and bent over them a moment, gazing tenderly into each little face, then drawing out her watch and turning to the old nurse, whispered, "It is time for me to dress for dinner, mammy. I'll go now, but if they wake and want me let me know at once."
Her toilet was scarcely completed when the sound of wheels caught her ears.
"There! mamma has come! Dear, dear mamma!" she said half aloud, and presently hastened from the room to meet and welcome her.
But instead a servant was coming leisurely up the broad stairway.
"Where is mamma, Prilla?" the young girl asked in a slightly disappointed tone.