“Oh, mother, please don’t talk like that,” Bessie said, thinking to herself that she could tell, if she would, why he did not play as formerly, and feeling a great throb of gladness that he was keeping his promise to her.

If he had been coming to Stoneleigh, Bessie would not have cared for her surroundings, or her shabby shoes for he would not have noticed them, or if he did, he would not have let her know it as Neil was sure to do.  Neil was very particular and critical, and had more than once hurt Bessie cruelly with his criticism upon her dress.  But then he was just as severe upon Blanche, and that was some comfort, and with a sigh, as she remembered what he had said of being as good as engaged, she put the letter aside, and went to tell Dorothy of the expected guests and to consult with her as to the ways and means of making them comfortable.

“Fortunately I have some money saved, of my own, and you must make it go as far as possible, and be sure that we have a good Christmas dinner, with plum-pudding and whipped cream,” she said, as she emptied into the old servant’s hand what had been intended for boots and gloves, and a Christmas present for her father.

And now the day when Neil was expected had come, and it lacked but a few minutes of the time for the arrival of the train.  Everything was ready, and the old house wore quite a festive appearance with its holiday dress of evergreens and scarlet berries, and all the flowers there were in blossom in the conservatory, which opened from the dining room, and was kept warm without extra expense.  Everything which could be spared from other parts of the house had been brought to Neil’s room, where a cheerful fire was burning in the grate, and where Bessie’s own easy chair, and couch, and bright Afghan were doing duty, and making the place very comfortable and attractive.

During the two years and a half which had elapsed since Bessie’s visit to London, she had changed somewhat, and was more a woman than a child, with a matured and, if possible, a sweeter expression in her face, though there still lingered about her mouth that same sorry, patient look which Jack Trevellian had wanted so much to kiss away.  It was very apparent this afternoon, as she stood by the window looking out upon the snow which covered the garden and park, and made her shiver a little, and think of the mother who should have been at home, lightening her daughter’s burden and cheering her lonely life.

“How happy the girls must be who have real mothers,” Bessie thought, and then as if the regret for the mother reflected upon the father, who was so much to her, she went up to him by the fire, and stooping over him kissed him tenderly.

She always did that when her mother was in her mind and by some subtle intuition Archie had come to know it, and now his voice was very tender and loving as he drew her down upon his knee, and stroking her hair, said to her: