Her long skirt, tightly bound with the narrow apron, showed the curve of her slender hips and beneath he saw her high-arched, supple feet.
She looked a thoroughbred—he thought—with a sudden thrill of friendly pride—from the poise of her well-shaped head to the smooth, pointed finger tips.
"It's so nice to see you again—I'm awfully glad." He beamed at her.
"I, too——" she laughed back—"we thought you had really gone for good. And you never said in your letter you were coming home, not a word!"
"I wanted it to be a surprise."
"It was!" She caught her brother's arm. "Roddy—you little wretch!"—for she guessed his share in the trick—"just run down and put on the kettle—and then we'll have tea together. D'you mind a picnic in the kitchen?"—she turned to the visitor, "Lizzie's upstairs with the invalid."
"I'd love it," McTaggart declared. "I've got such lots of things to tell you. But first of all—how's your Mother?"
"Better." Jill smiled bravely. "But it's been dreadful! Poor darling—she came home an utter wreck——" Her lips quivered as she spoke.
"Well—you'll soon get her right, my dear—good nursing and perfect rest." Peter's voice was soothing now; he was inwardly shocked at the strain he guessed. "And then we'll take her out for drives—I've ordered a car from Tommy Bethune."
"Oh!—I'm so glad. He's such a dear! You don't know how good he's been. He arranged everything for Mother—even to the ambulance."