CHAPTER VI.
Miss Evans sat quietly reading, when a gentle ring at the door, which seemed to reach her heart rather than her ears, aroused her from an intensely interesting chapter; but she laid the book aside, and promptly answered the call.
Her face looked the welcome her heart gave them, as she asked Dawn and her teacher into her cool, airy room. It was one of those snug, homelike spots, made bright by touches of beauty. Here a vase of flowers, there a basket of work; books, pictures, every chair and footstool betokened the taste of the occupant, and the air of home sacredness that pervaded all, soon made Miss Vernon at ease.
“We could n't help coming,” said Dawn, as Miss Evans removed her hat and mantle, and her glowing features confirmed the assertion.
“Just the kind of visitors I like, fresh and spontaneous. We shall have a nice time, I know, this lovely afternoon.”
“Can I walk in your garden, Miss Evans?”
“Certainly. But are you not too tired, now?”
“O, no,” and Dawn was out of sight the next instant.
“I have brought you a book, Miss Evans, which Mr. Wyman requested me to bring, myself.”
“O, yes,” she said, glancing at the title, “the one he promised to loan me so long ago. Is he away from home?”