“Mother!—­Jessie!—­I’ve heard from her!!  Mother, mother, do you hear, there’s news of her at last?”

Miss Grace stepped nearer and stood by the poor old woman, laying a firm hand on her shoulder, she could see how she was shaking.  “If it is good news, tell her quickly,” she said anxiously.

Thomas read the expression of Miss Grace’s face, and recovered himself at once.  His care for Patience was always his first thought.

“Good!  My dear, yes, good as good can be.  Better than I ever hoped for.  She is well, and she’s coming back, to us, mother! do you hear?  She is coming back for good.  It doesn’t seem possible, it doesn’t seem as though it can be true, yet it says so on the letter.  Hark to it—­in’t it like the dear child herself speaking?”

The terrified look which had come into Patience’s face died away.  She could not speak, but she put out one shaking hand and thrust it into that of her husband, and so they read the glad news.  It was a curious, excited, incoherent letter, but it told them all they wanted to know, for the time, at any rate.

     “My Dearest Granp,

“I have been longing to write all this time and tell you where I am, but I could not, and now father is dead and Charlie, and mother wants to go home to live with her father, and I am coming home to you!  Mother told me to write and ask if I may, and I am very well and happy, but, oh, I am longing to see you and granny.  I nearly broke my heart at first, but I am coming home again, and I am so happy, only I am sorry, too, to leave here, and the lady who has been so kind to me.  She is old and feels very miserable at being left all alone.  Good-bye, granp and granny.  I shall come as soon as ever I can when I hear from you.  Please write soon.  Give my love to granny, I hope she’ll soon get better,

“From your loving,”
“Jessie Lang.”

It was well that Miss Grace stayed by the old couple, for they both needed her by the time the letter was read.

“She is well, and she must have met with kindness, or she would not be sorry to leave,” she said cheerfully.  “Now, Mrs. Dawson, we shall have her back with us almost at once, so it behoves us to set about getting everything ready for her,” she went on, in her sensible, matter-of-fact way, for she felt that the best thing for both of them was to keep them busy with preparations.

Patience caught her spirit at once.  “You must write to-night, Thomas,” she said eagerly, “you mustn’t delay, for the child is waiting for a word and she mustn’t be disappointed, whatever happens.  I expect she’s pretty nigh broken her heart many a time longing to write to us, and—­and—­her father wouldn’t let her.  I can read between the lines.  I’m sure ’twas his doings—­”

“He is dead now,” said Miss Grace softly, “so we will forgive him and put away all hard thoughts of him, and maybe your little flower was taken from you just to brighten a dark corner for the time, and bring happiness to others—­perhaps to learn some lesson that will help her in the future.”