Honora laughed.
"You don't seem a bit sorry that I'm going," she replied, a little breathlessly. "You know I'd be glad to see you, if you were in rags."
"All aboard!" cried the porter, grinning sympathetically.
Honora threw her arms around Aunt Mary and clung to her. How small and frail she was! Somehow Honora had never realized it in all her life before.
"Good-by, darling, and remember to put on your thick clothes on the cool days, and write when you get to New York."
Then it was Uncle Tom's turn. He gave her his usual vigorous hug and kiss.
"It won't be long until Christmas," he whispered, and was gone, helping
Aunt Mary off the train, which had begun to move.
Peter remained a moment.
"Good-by, Honora. I'll write to you often and let you know how they are.
And perhaps—you'll send me a letter once in a while."
"Oh, Peter, I will," she cried. "I can't bear to leave you—I didn't think it would be so hard—"