Mr. Fleetwood threw an almost grateful look upon Florence, as he said,—
“You have friends here, Miss Harper. Children are no hypocrites.”
“If this is true, as I hope it is, let me welcome you with a most sincere welcome,” said Mr. Dainty, coming forward and giving his hand to Florence.
Mrs. Dainty entered at the moment. She had lingered in the chamber after Florence left.
“It is true,” she spoke out, with womanly frankness. “I have asked her to return, and she has kindly consented. We shall all know each other better in time, I hope.”
The flushed cheeks, drooping eyes, and unsteady lips of Miss Harper showed emotion, not triumph; and no eye that then read her countenance mistook its true expression.
Uncle John thanked his niece with his eyes, but said nothing.
“A’n’t you glad? I am!” And George danced about the room, in his wild, impulsive way. “Hurrah for Miss Harper, and death on Old Snakes!”
Young America was losing himself.
“Georgie! Georgie?” Agnes spoke in warning and reproof. Mr. Dainty raised his finger; and Uncle John said, “Hush?” But the boy’s blood was up, and he rattled on:—