Then Martha led the children into the kitchen.
'You'll excuse it,' she said. 'The fire will soon light up again, and you must be near dead with cold—dear—dear!'
A FIGURE WAS STANDING IN THE DOORWAY.
She bustled about and soon got a little blaze to show. Kathie had sunk down on one of the old-fashioned wooden chairs, too tired to speak, almost to think, when a little sound made both her and Neville look round. A figure was standing in the doorway, peering in with anxious face and short-sighted eyes,—a tall, thin figure in a dark dress and with smooth dark hair, and a gentle voice was saying—
'Are they here, Martha? My poor dear children! Are they really here?'
Neville darted forward.
'Aunt Clotilda!' he exclaimed.