Racey was really rather frightened of him, he looked so black and queer.
So we went, and we stayed a month—four whole weeks. And we were very happy, for the weather was fine and we were out nearly all day gathering primroses and daffodils; and Pierson was very kind indeed, and her husband was very polite, though the first time Racey saw him in the smithy he was really rather frightened of him, he looked so black and queer. And Cray was really a very pretty village, just as Pierson had said, and we had no lessons and lots of fresh eggs and new milk. So altogether it was very nice. But yet when the last evening came we couldn't help saying to each other—though of course we were sorry to leave Pierson—that for always, you know, counting rainy days and all, we'd rather be in London with Uncle Geoff, and with dear Miss Goldy-hair coming to see us. And we thought—Tom and I at least—what a good thing it was we had lost our way that night and had found Miss Goldy-hair, instead of running away to Pierson. And all the way home in the train we kept thinking how nice it would be to see her—Miss Goldy-hair—again, and wondering if she'd be at the house when we got out of the cab. Uncle Geoff we knew we'd see at the station, for he had sent us a letter to Cray to say he'd be there, and so he was.
He looked so merry and nice we somehow were surprised.
"Uncle Geoff," I said to him, "you must have enjoyed yourself very much when you were away. You look so very merry."
"Yes," he said smiling, "I enjoyed my holiday very much."
We knew he had been away, for he had written to tell us.
"Do you think Miss Goldy-hair will be at the house to see us when we get there?" I asked. "Have you seen her while we were away?"
"Yes," said Uncle Geoff. "I have, and I think she will be there."
The cab stopped. Out we all jumped. What a different coming from the last time!—for there in the hall, looking as if she would have liked to run out into the street to see us, stood dear Miss Goldy-hair.
We all flew into her arms. Then we all looked at her. She seemed a little different. She had a grey dress—a very pretty one—instead of her black one. She had put it on, she told us afterwards, on purpose for this evening, though she had still to wear black for a good while.