“Do you mean the farm where your father and your sister Molly live?” I returned, quite taken aback at this, for the girl’s eyes were sparkling, and she seemed almost beside herself with joy. “Truly it is an ill wind that blows no one any good.”
“Yes, indeed, miss, you have told me a piece of good news. I was just thinking of asking mistress for a week’s holiday, only Master Reggie seemed so fretful and Miss Joyce so weakly, that I hardly knew how I could be spared without putting too much work upon you; but now I shall be near them all for a month or more. Molly had been writing to me the other day to tell me that they were longing for a sight of me.”
“I am very glad for your sake, Hannah, that we shall be so near your old home; but now we must see to the children’s things, and I must get Rhoda to send a note to the laundress. I had put a stop to the conversation purposely, for I wanted to know my mistress’s opinion before I encouraged Hannah in speaking about her own people. How did I know what Mrs. Morton would wish? I took the opportunity of speaking to her when she came up to the nursery in the course of the evening. Hannah was still packing, and I was collecting some of the children’s toys. Mrs. Morton listened to me with great attention; I thought she seemed interested.
“Of course I know Wheeler’s Farm,” she replied at once; “Michael Sowerby, Hannah’s father, is a very respectable man; indeed, they are all most respectable, and I know Mrs. Garnett thinks highly of them. I shall have no objection to my children visiting the farm if you think proper to take them, Merle; but of course they will go nowhere without you. If you can spare Hannah for a day now and then I should be glad for her to have the holiday, for she is a good girl, and has always done her duty.”
“I will willingly spare her,” was my answer, for Hannah’s sweet temper and obliging ways had made me her friend. “I was only anxious to know your wishes on this point, in case my conduct or Hannah’s should be questioned.”
“You are nervous about going to Netherton, Merle,” she returned, at once, looking at me more keenly than usual. “You are quite pale this evening. Put down those toys; Hannah can pack them, with Rhoda’s help; I will not have you tire yourself any more to-night.”
“I am not tired,” I faltered, but the foolish tears rushed to my eyes. Did she have an idea, I wonder, how hard I felt it would be to leave her the next day. As the thought passed through my mind she took the chair beside me.
“The carriage has not come yet, Anderson will let me know when my husband is ready for me; we shall have time for a talk. You are a little down-hearted to-night, Merle; you are dreading leaving us to-morrow.”
“I am sorry to leave you,” I returned, and now I could not keep the tears back.
“I shall miss you, too,” she replied, kindly; “I am getting to know you so well, Merle. I think we understand each other, and then I am so grateful to you for loving my children; no one has ever been so good to them before.”