And this must be imagined as said so loud that only capital letters would properly represent the noise Mr. Twist made.

Mrs. Bilton did sit down, her face flushed by the knowledge of how good her intentions had been when she took the post, and how deceitful—­she was forced to think it—­Mr. Twist’s were when he offered it.  She was prepared, however, to give him a hearing.  It was only fair.  But Mr. Twist had to burst into capitals several times before he had done, so difficult was it for Mrs. Bilton, even when she had agreed, even when she herself wished, not to say anything.

It wasn’t five minutes but twenty before Mrs. Bilton came out of the office again.  She went straight into the garden, where the Annas, aware of the interview going on with Mr. Twist, had been lingering anxiously, unable at so crucial a moment to settle to anything, and with solemnity kissed them.  Her eyes were very bright.  Her face, ordinarily colourless as parchment, was red.  Positively she kissed them without saying a single word; and they kissed her back with such enthusiasm, with a relief that made them hug her so tight and cling to her so close, that the brightness in her eyes brimmed over and she had to get out her handkerchief and wipe it away.

“Gurls,” said Mrs. Bilton, “I had a shock yesterday, but I’m through with it.  You’re motherless.  I’m daughterless.  We’ll weld.”

And with this unusual brevity did Mrs. Bilton sum up the situation.

She was much moved.  Her heart was touched; and once that happened nothing could exceed her capacity for sticking through what she called thick and thin to her guns.  For years Mr. Bilton had occupied the position of the guns; now it would be these poor orphans.  No Germans could frighten her away, once she knew their story; no harsh judgments and misconceptions of her patriotic friends.  Mr. Twist had told her everything, from the beginning on the St. Luke, harking back to Uncle Arthur and the attitude of England, describing what he knew of their mother and her death, not even concealing the part his own mother had played or that he wasn’t their guardian at all.  He made the most of Mrs. Bilton’s silence; and as she listened her heart melted within her, and the immense store of grit which was her peculiar pride came to the top and once and for all overwhelmed her prejudices.  But she couldn’t think, and at last she burst out and told Mr. Twist she couldn’t think, why he hadn’t imparted all this to her long ago.

“Ah,” murmured Mr. Twist, bowing his head as a reed in the wind before the outburst of her released volubility.

Hope once more filled The Open Arms, and the Twist party looked forward to the afternoon with renewed cheerfulness.  It had just happened so the first day, that only Germans came.  It was just accident.  Mr. Twist, with the very large part of him that wasn’t his head, found himself feeling like this too and declining to take any notice of his intelligence, which continued to try to worry him.