"Still truth is truth. There can be no excuse for a falsehood," said Eleanor.
"Mother is too indulgent and gentle in some ways," she thought. "I must look after Maggie, and be firm with her."
"But gentleness encourages truth, where severity might crush it," said her mother softly, as if she had heard Eleanor's unspoken words.
Miss Campbell made no reply, but she pressed her mother's hand.
"And the day after to-morrow, mother dear, you will be leaving us!" she said regretfully.
"Yes, but only for a month; and now that you are here, your father and I can leave with such lightened hearts. I feel sure that the change to St. Abbots will do me good now," replied Mrs. Campbell cheerfully.
Chapter II
To-morrow—the first part of it at least—found the excitement scarcely less great than on the day of Miss Campbell's arrival. For there were the presents to distribute! A delightful business to all concerned, as Eleanor had invariably succeeded in choosing "just what I wanted more than anything," and the hugs she had again to submit to were really alarming, both as to quantity and quality. And among all the children none hugged her more than Maggie.
"It's like Santa Claus morning—goodies too," she exclaimed, dancing about in delight.
"Don't talk nonsense, you silly child," said Patty, who was of a prosaic and literal turn of mind. "You wouldn't believe, Miss Campbell," she went on, turning to her elder sister, "would you, that Maggie last Christmas went and told Flop that Santa Claus was a real old man, and that he really came down the chimney, and poor Flop wakened in the night, quite frightened—screaming—and so mamma said Maggie was never to speak about Santa Claus again, and you are doing so, Maggie," she wound up with, virtuously.