“I don’t know,” said Mary, adding merrily, “but I can tell you, godmother, these are fir-cones in the fire! Perhaps it is that.”
“No doubt of it,” said Miss Verity. “I might have guessed it. Did you bring any in with you?”
“Not to-day, but I brought some, a few at a time, before. And I think some of the servants have been gathering them. I saw Myrtle with some in her apron, and I have scented them several times about the house. It is such a nice smell.”
“Yes, and they burn so beautifully. I have never known any fir-cones like those in our forest, not even in Germany,” replied her godmother.
“They’re like everything else about here, I think,” said Mary.
Miss Verity looked pleased.
“Do look, godmother,” Mary added quickly. “There are such funny pictures in the fire. There, over at your side, do you see? It is like the edge—what should I call it?—of a ship, and somebody looking up as if he was watching something. I know what it makes me think of; it is Michael, I wonder if it is the middle of the night just now where he is, and if perhaps he is standing at the side of his ship looking up at the stars?”
“And thinking of home and the dear ones there, and of his little cousin Mary,” added Miss Verity. “Perhaps so, though I think sailors are generally too busy, or too glad to go to sleep when their busy time is over, to have much leisure for star-gazing.”
“But I am sure Michael is always, nearly, thinking of home,” said Mary, with a touch of reproach in her voice. “You don’t know, godmother, how very loving and kind he is.”
“I am sure of it,” said Miss Verity, quickly. “Do not mistake me, dear. The brother I loved best of all, long ago, was a sailor, and it is very rarely that sailors have not loving faithful hearts, I think. Does Michael know that you are here with me?”