"Dear child, there was no need to remind your father of an idle form. I am quite sure we have his good wishes for the sake of the auld lang syne. You are bareheaded, Mr. Ward. Do please go in;" and her slim, gloved hand was stretched out to him.
Everard bowed over it as he pressed it warmly.
"You will always have my best wishes," he said, very gravely. "Good-night, Miss Harford, good-night, and thank you, Miss Althea." And then he swung open the gate and went up the little courtyard, with Waveney clinging to his arm.
Althea looked after them with wistful eyes. What a stream of light met them! What did the narrow passage and steep, ladder-like stairs matter, or the frayed and dingy druggetting, when that starlight glow of home radiance beamed so brightly. And indeed, when Waveney felt Mollie's arms round her neck, and her warm cheek pressed against hers, her heart was comforted and at rest.
"Where are you taking me, sweetheart?" she asked, softly, as Mollie dragged her past the studio door.
"You must come upstairs and take off your things first," returned Mollie, panting from her exertions. "We shall have tea in the dining-room to-night, because there are muffins and crumpets, and I must see to them." Then Mollie threw open the bedroom door, and stood still in silent enjoyment to see Waveney's start of surprise at the sight of a splendid fire burning in the grate.
"Oh, Mollie!" she said, quite shocked at this extravagance, "have we ever had a fire here before, except when we had the measles?" Then Mollie laughed and shook her head.
"I daresay not, but I was not going to let you sleep in this cold vault for three nights when you have been used to a lovely fire in your Pansy Room. Why, Wave, you absurd child, how grave you look! Father won't have to pay one penny for it. I put two shillings into the housekeeping purse out of my own money, and we will just have a beautiful fire every night; and won't we enjoy ourselves!"
"It feels lovely," returned Waveney, kneeling down on the rug, for she was chilly from the long drive. "No, don't light the gas, dear, the firelight is so pretty." Then Mollie put down the match-box reluctantly.
"I wanted to show you something," she returned, in a low voice; "but perhaps if you make a blaze you will be able to see it. Oh, what is that?" as Waveney mutely held out a long brown paper parcel. "Is that another present? No, please don't open it; you must look at this one first." And then Mollie, with outward gravity, and much inward excitement, laid a beautiful Russian leather writing-case on the rug for Waveney's inspection.