“Run in, girls; you will catch cold,” called out Bessie; but her prudent suggestion was of no avail, for a tall, lanky girl rushed into the road with the rapturous exclamation, “Why, it is our Bessie after all, though she looked so tall in the moonlight, and I did not know Tom’s new ulster.” And here Bessie was fallen upon and kissed, and handed from one to another of the group, and then borne rapidly down the steps and across the terrace to the open window.
“Here she is, mother; here is our Bessie, not a bit the worse. And Hatty ought to be ashamed of herself for making us all miserable!” exclaimed Katie.
“My Hatty sha’n’t be scolded. Mother, dear, if you only knew how sweet home looks after the Sheen Valley! Don’t smother me any more, girls. I want to tell you something that will surprise you;” and Bessie, still holding her mother’s hand, but looking at Hatty, gave a rapid and somewhat indistinct account of her meeting with Edna Sefton.
“And she will have my room, mother,” continued Bessie, a little incoherently, for she was tired and breathless, and the girl’s exclamations were so bewildering.
Mrs. Lambert, a pale, care-worn woman, with a sweet pathetic sort of face, was listening with much perplexity, which was not lessened by the sight of her husband ushering into the room a handsome-looking girl, dressed in the most expensive fashion.
“Dora, my dear, this is Bessie’s fellow-sufferer in the snowdrift; we must make much of her, for she is the daughter of my old friend, Eleanor Sartoris—Mrs. Sefton now. Bessie has offered her her own room to-night, as it is too late for her to travel to London.”
A quick look passed between the husband and wife, and a faint color came to Mrs. Lambert’s face, but she was too well-bred to express her astonishment.
“You are very welcome, my dear,” she said quietly. “We will make you as comfortable as we can. These are all my girls,” and she mentioned their names.
“What a lot of girls,” thought Edna. She was not a bit shy by nature, and somehow the situation amused her. “What a comfortable, homelike room, and what a lovely fire! And—well, of course, they were not rich; any one could see that; but they were nice, kind people.”
“This is better than the snowdrift,” she said, with a beaming smile, as Dr. Lambert placed her in his own easy chair, and Tom brought her a footstool and handed her a screen, and her old acquaintance Bessie helped her to remove her wraps. The whole family gathered round her, intent on hospitality to the bewitching stranger—only the “Crutch,” as Tom called her, tripped away to order Jane to light a fire in her room, and to give out the clean linen for the unexpected guest, and to put a few finishing touches to the supper-table.