"Yes, indeed, my darling," said Mrs. Ross; while his father gently placed his hand on the young fellow's shoulder, repeated her words—"yes, indeed! When we think of this day—how many years ago! Ten?—yes, it must be ten—you were nine then, Ferdy, how very, unutterably thankful we should be to have you as you are."
"And to judge by my looks you don't know the best of me," said Ferdy. "I can walk ever so far without knocking up. But oh! what heaps of things we have to talk about!"
"Come in to breakfast first," said his mother. "It is ten o'clock, and after travelling all night you must be a little tired."
"I am really not, only very hungry," said Ferdy, as he followed her into the dining-room, where the happy party seated themselves round the table.
Ferdy had been away, abroad, for nearly two years, both for study and for health's sake, and the result was more than satisfactory. School-life had been impossible for him, for the effect of his accident had been but very slowly outgrown. Slowly but surely, however, for now at nineteen, except for his slight lameness, he was perfectly well, and able to look forward to a busy and useful life, though the exact profession he was now to prepare himself for, was not yet quite decided upon. A busy and useful and happy life it promised to be, with abundance of interests for his leisure hours. He was no genius, but the tastes which he had had special opportunity for cultivating through his boyhood, were not likely to fail him as he grew up. And in many a dull and sunless home would they help him to bring something to cheer the dreary sameness of hard-working lives. They had done so already, more than he as yet knew.
Breakfast over and his old haunts revisited, Mrs. Ross at last persuaded him and his sister to join her on the lawn, where she had established herself with her work for the rest of the morning.
"This is to be a real holiday, Ferdy," she said. "Chrissie and I have been looking forward to it for so long. We have nothing to do but to talk and listen."
"I have heaps to tell," said Ferdy, "but even more to ask. My life in Switzerland was really awfully jolly in every way, but I'll tell you all about it by degrees; besides, I did write long letters, didn't I?"
"Yes, you did," said his mother and Chrissie together; "you have been very good about letters all the time."