"Well, I hope they haven't anything worse to say of us than that we've had a fire, and that the place looks sadly out of trim."
"Mamma," said Missy abruptly, as with wreathed smiles the friends parted and the carriages drove away, "what do you say to a journey this summer? I'm sadly cut up about this fire. I never shall have the heart to get things in order before autumn; I'm tired of Yellowcoats for the first time in my life, and—I want to go away."
"Go away, Missy! How could we do that? I fear I am not strong enough; and your Aunt Harriet—you know we resolved two years ago, we'd never try it again. She is so hard to please, and you remember what a trial we found the whole three months."
"It would be less of a trial than staying here. I, for one, would be glad to risk it. And as to you, I sometimes feel sure you need a change more than anything."
Mrs. Varian shook her head. "I need rest more than anything."
"Invalids always feel that, and yet see what benefit they get from journeys that they have dreaded."
"Besides," said the mother rather hesitatingly "you know there is always a chance of St. John's return."
"I didn't know," said Missy, a little coldly.
"You know as much as I do," returned her mother. "You saw his last letter. He says all depends upon his being accepted. He may come back at any time."
"Oh, as to that," cried Missy, "I think there is no danger that he will not be accepted. It would surprise me very much if he escaped. A man with a handsome income is generally found to have a vocation."