"Come," said Mrs. Bunker, with a beaming face, "pass her round."
"You dear old things," cried Indiana, "this is what I call a surprise! Now sit down, all of you." She pulled her father and mother down on the lounge, sitting between them. Mrs. Stillwater gazed at her, speechless with happiness. Stillwater smoothed her hair tenderly, pressing her head against his breast. "Tell me all the news. How's everybody at home? Anybody engaged—or married? How did you happen to come? What put it in your heads? How long are you going to stay? How—?"
"Good gracious!" exclaimed Mrs. Bunker, "one at a time, Indy."
Thurston stood aside, watching Indiana's radiant face, with an unselfish joy and an impulse of gratitude to the kindly chance which had brought her loved ones at the very moment when they were so urgently needed. Then he withdrew quietly, thinking she would like to be alone with them. He also wished to acquaint his mother with the surprise.
"I've come over only for one thing," said Mrs. Stillwater. "That's to see you, Indiana. After you left, and the excitement was over, I couldn't settle down again. My body was there, but my heart and soul were following you over the water. I don't know how we ever let you go," her eyes filled, "and I couldn't stand it any longer. I had to come over to see for myself if you were happy." She looked yearningly into Indiana's face.
"My dear mother," said Indiana, tenderly, pressing her cheek to hers, "my dear, kind, loving mother!"
"Mary," said Stillwater, severely. "It's done now, and we must make the best of it." The spectacle of his wife and child clasped in each other's arms, affected him to an intense degree. During the term of Indiana's engagement and marriage, he had found it necessary to be stern with his gentle wife—without stringent measures—from pure fear that she would collapse utterly. His severity served also as a moral brace, when he himself was concerned.
Jennings entered in his usual noiseless fashion. "Would yer little leddyship like tea served?"
"Yes, if you please, Jennings," answered Indiana, assuming her English accent. "Father, Jennings has been a butler in our family all his life." Every eye was centred upon Jennings, who bowed with a most self-congratulatory expression, and walked proudly from the room.
"Em—em—lack of ambition," said Stillwater, "that's the trouble with this country. I could see it before I was two hours landed. The Britishers are too well-satisfied with themselves. Life's too easy. They haven't had to grow up with a new town—they ought to have been in my shoes, eh, mother?"