“They are good girls,” said Mrs. Gwynne quietly, “and they have proved good girls to me.”
“I know, I know,” said Jane, with impulsive fervour, “and through those winters and all. Oh, they were so splendid.”
“Yes,” said the mother, “they never failed, and Larry too.”
“Yes, indeed,” cried Jane with increasing ardour, her eyes shining, “with his teaching,—going there through the awful cold,—lighting the school fires,—and the way he stuck to his college work. Nora's letters told me all about it. How splendid that was! And you know, Mrs. Gwynne, in the 'Varsity he did so well. I mean besides his standing in the class lists, in the Societies and in all the college life. He was really awfully popular,” added Jane with something of a sigh.
“You must tell me, dear, sometime all about it. But now you must be weary and hungry. Come away out if you are ready, and I hope you will feel as if you were just one of ourselves.”
“Do you know, that is just the way I feel, Mrs. Gwynne,” said Jane, putting the final touch to her toilet. “I seem to know the house, and everything and everybody about it. Nora is such a splendid correspondent, you see.”
“Well, dear child, we hope the days you spend here will always be a very bright spot in your life,” said Mrs. Gwynne as they entered the living room.
The next few days saw the beginning of the realisation of that hope, for of all the bright spots in Jane's life none shone with a brighter and more certain lustre than the days of her visit to Lakeside Farm.