“Why, child, your hand's like ice!” she exclaimed without preamble. “We used to say that came from a warm heart.”
“I guess it comes from a cold grapery in this case, mother,” said Dan, with his laugh. “I've just been running Alice through it. And perhaps a little excitement—”
“Excitement?” echoed his mother. “Cold grapery, I dare say, and very silly of you, Dan; but there's no occasion for excitement, as if we were strangers. Sit down in that chair, my dear. And, Dan, you go round to the other side of the bed; I want Alice all to myself. I saw your photograph a week ago, and I've thought about you for ages since, and wondered whether you would approve of your old friend.”
“Oh yes,” whispered the girl, suppressing a tremor; and Dan's eyes were suffused with grateful tears at his mother's graciousness.
Alice's reticence seemed to please the invalid. “I hope you'll like all your old friends here; you've begun with the worst among us, but perhaps you like him the best because he is the worst; I do.”
“You may believe just half of that, Alice,” cried Dan.
“Then believe the best half, or the half you like best,” said Mrs. Mavering. “There must be something good in him if you like him. Have they welcomed you home, my dear?”
“We've all made a stagger at it,” said Dan, while Alice was faltering over the words which were so slow to come.
“Don't try to answer my formal stupidities. You are welcome, and that's enough, and more than enough of speeches. Did you have a comfortable journey up?”
“Oh, very.”