"I've a lot of things in the van beside these, Adam," said Mrs. Livesey, indicating her smaller parcels, "and there's more yet to come by goods train. You'll see there's a deal come back with me that didn't go with me."
"I've got you and the little 'un safe back, and that's best of all, however good the rest may be," said Adam. "And though you've had your troubles, you look a deal better in the face—plumper like. And you've a bit of nice fresh colour again, as you used to have. Not so much yet, but something towards it, as if you were growing younger."
And Adam, as he noted these improvements, looked with a face full of affection and pleasure at that of his wife.
Margaret smiled, and said, "Why, Adam, you might think I'd been at the mill for grinding old folks into young 'uns again. Happen you'll grow younger too, in a while, for I think I'm bringing what will ease your mind. You must get a cab. We can't carry the luggage home as we brought it here."
The cab was called, and, with no little pride on Margaret's part, and surprise on Adam's, the many packages with Mrs. Livesey's name appended were at length collected and piled thereon.
Then husband and wife got into the vehicle, and out came Margaret's secret.
"Adam, my dear lad," said she, as glad tears came welling up into her eyes, "Adam, mother told me, over and over, how sorry she was that she left us in such a way, and that she'd taken so little notice of us for years and years. She kept saying that she'd made amends, and so she had. When her will was read, I found out what she meant, though I couldn't understand before. She'd saved money, and she's left me a great deal, the biggest share, besides most of her clothes, and her watch, and some silver spoons, and a lot o' things more than I can tell you all at once. I've brought what I could, and the others will be here to-morrow. Just think, Adam! There'll be a hundred and fifty pound extra, beside the three hundred."
Margaret repeated the last sentence slowly, and with much stress on each word. She seemed to think this would be necessary, in order that Adam might grasp news of such an amazing and unexpected character.
"I'm very glad, Margaret. It would comfort you so to know that your mother was full of love to you at the last. It would be almost more than money to hear her speak in that kind way. And I'm glad about what she has left you, because your sisters married men that could do more for them than I could ever do for you. This will make things so much better for you and the little 'uns. Thank God!"
"For you too, Adam. It would be no pleasure to me, if you weren't to be bettered by it."