The house and its contents were not difficult to deal with, so the articles bequeathed to the elder sisters were promptly removed, those which Mrs. Livesey chose to keep packed, and the remainder prepared for sale by auction.
When Margaret started on her homeward journey, it was with a greatly replenished wardrobe, many useful additions to her household goods, and the certainty that, after all expenses were paid, she would have at least a hundred and fifty pounds, in addition to the three hundred which she had always known would come to her in due time.
Though Adam and his wife had exchanged several letters during her absence, each was ignorant of much that had happened to the other. How could Adam employ another hand to tell of the great inward change which had taken place in himself? It is doubtful whether he could have expressed in words the feelings uppermost in his mind, even had Margaret been by his side to listen. Much less could he have conveyed these thoughts in writing.
So the letters dealt only with the continued health of the children at Millborough, and Margaret's told of the gradual fading of her mother, until the end came.
Mrs. Livesey was eager for Adam to know about her unexpected windfall, but unwilling that the tidings should reach him otherwise than from her own lips. So she gave no hint of it in writing, though the extent of her luggage puzzled the man not a little.
"Oh, Margaret! I am glad to see you. Give me baby till you get out," was Adam's greeting. "Long-looked-for, come at last!" And the man's hands were extended to relieve his wife of the child, his much missed pet and darling.
But a month is a long time in a baby's life, and Adam's youngest had become unaccustomed to the sight of the bearded face in which she used to delight to bury her fat fingers. She turned her head away from the extended arms, buried it on her mother's shoulder, and clung round her neck.
"It's dada, love," said Margaret. "Baby's own dada. He wants to lift her down and carry her as she likes. See, my pet!" and she tried, but in vain, to coax the child into looking at Adam.
"Eh dear! I must keep her myself till she gets used to you again. Who would have thought it?"
"I might ha' done," said Adam, ruefully, for it gave the father's loving heart a pang. "But we'll not frighten her. Let me help you out, and then I'll get in and reach out your things. The train goes no further, so there's no call to hurry yourself."