“Yes; I have bought it,” he returned, coolly. “And what is more, I hope to settle down there in another month’s time. How soon do you think you will be ready to move, Aunt Catherine?”
“My dear!” in a voice of mild astonishment. But Dulce clapped her hands: she thought she guessed his meaning. “Are we to live with you, Harry? Do you really mean to take us with you?”
“Of course I shall take you with me; but not to Challoner Place. That would be rather close quarters; and—and—I may make different arrangements,” rather sheepishly. “Aunt Catherine, Glen Cottage will be all ready for you and the girls. I have settled about the furniture; and Mrs. Mayne will have fires lighted whenever you like to come down. Why, aunt,—dear Aunt Catherine,” as he felt her thin hand tremble in his, and the tears started to her eyes, “did you not tell me how much you loved your old home? And do you think, when you have no son to take care of you, that I should ever let you be far from me?”
“Confound you!” growled Dick. “Is not a son-in-law as good as a son any day.”
But no one heard this but Nan.
Mrs. Challoner was weeping for joy, and Dulce was keeping her company; but Phillis walked up to her cousin with a shamefaced look:
“I am sorry I called you a Goth, Harry. I ought to have remembered Alcides. You are as good as gold. You are a dear generous fellow. And I love you for it; and so do Nan and Dulce. And I was not a bit cross, really; but you did look such a great goose, turning out that wardrobe.” But, though she laughed at the remembrance, the tears were in Phillis’s eyes.
Dick was nobody after this: not that he minded that. How could they help crowding round this “big hero” of theirs who had performed such wonders?
Gilsbank turned into Challoner Place; Glen Cottage, with its conservatory and brand-new furniture, theirs again,—their own,—their very own (for Sir Harry intended to buy that too as soon as possible); Nan engaged to her dearest Dick, and all the neighborhood prepared to welcome them back! 343
“If you please, Miss Phillis, Mrs. Squails desires her compliments, and she is waiting for her dress.”