“How did you guess it?” she exclaimed in surprise. “Yes—to boarding-school. To Sutcliffe, on the Hudson, with Edith and Mary. Aren't you glad? You look as though you had seen a ghost.”
“Do I?” said Peter.
“Don't stand there in the rain,” commanded Honora; “come into the parlour, and I'll tell you all about it.”
He came in. She took the umbrella from him, and put it in the rack.
“Why don't you congratulate me?” she demanded.
“You'll never come back,” said Peter.
“What a horrid thing to say! Of course I shall come back. I shall come back next June, and you'll be at the station to meet me.”
“And—what will Uncle Tom and Aunt Mary do—without you?”
“Oh,” said Honora, “I shall miss them dreadfully. And I shall miss you, Peter.”
“Very much?” he asked, looking down at her with such a queer expression. And his voice, too, sounded queer. He was trying to smile.