The waiting and the silence was almost too much. The girls' voices died away in the room; a bee was buzzing in a foxglove bell at her elbow, and some cows went quietly up the lane past the green garden-gate. Then, all at once, the door flew open, and tall Janet and fair-haired Clare stood before her.
'You dear child, have you come all alone? How tired she looks, Clare!'
'Katie, Katie, haven't you got a kiss for your own Clare?'
There was quite a chorus of greetings as they ushered puzzled Katie into a bright room where her invalid aunt, wrapped in a shawl, and rather pale, lay on a couch, holding out both hands to welcome the visitor.
'Oh, dear,' thought Katie, 'I don't know how they can pretend to be so kind!'
She stood there in the midst of them all, awkward and silent, an honest-hearted little girl, obliged to act a most untruthful part. Try as she might, her kisses were but cold ones. She would have liked to push them away, and to cry out: 'You don't love me, really; you said I was a noisy creature! Let me go home.'
It was worse when her kind, suffering aunt took her in her arms, and said she was 'Oh! so glad to have her to stay!' Katie felt such a mean, horrid little girl. She did not know which way to look or where to hide her hot cheeks.
In the middle of the window, a large green parrot was clawing at her perch.
'This is Polly,' said Janet, passing a hand under the great creature's wing. 'The people next door are going away, and they have sent her to us till they come back.'
Here Polly interrupted with a long, loud screech, so that everybody had to put their hands to their ears.