John answered this letter in person.  He ran down to London by a night train and spent a day with Jane and Martha and his uncle and aunt.  It was such a happy day that it would hardly have been possible to have duplicated it, and John was wise to carry it back to Hatton untouched by thought or word, by look or act which could in any way shadow its perfection.  He had longed to take his wife and child back to Hatton with him, but Lady Trelawney was to give a children’s May garden-party on the eighteenth of May and Martha had been chosen queen of the May, and when her father saw her in the dress prepared for the occasion and witnessed her enthusiasm about the ceremony and the crowning of herself queen, he put down all his personal desires and gave a ready consent to her stay in London until the pageant was over.  Then Jane dressed her in the lace and satin of her coronation robe, with its spangled train of tulle, put on her bright brown hair the little crown of shining gilt and mock jewels, put in her hand the childish scepter and brought her into the drawing-room and bade all make obeisance to her.  And the child played her part with such a sweet and noble seriousness that everyone present wondered at her dignity and grace, and John’s eyes were full as his heart and the words were yet unknown to human tongues that could express his deep love and emotion.  Perhaps Lord Harlow made the best and truest of commentaries when he said,

“My dear friends, let us be thankful that we have yet hearts so childlike as to be capable of enjoying this simple pleasure; for we are told that unless we become as little children, we are not fit for the kingdom of heaven.”

The next day soon after noon John was in his factory, but the image of his child still lived in his eyes.  His vision was everywhere obstructed by looms and belts and swirling bands, but in front of them there was a silvery light and in its soft glow he saw—­he saw clearly—­the image of the lovely May Queen in her glimmering dress of shining white with the little gilt crown on her long brown hair.  Nor could he dismiss this phantom until he went up to Hatton Hall and described her fairy Majesty to his mother.

“And when are they coming home, John?” asked Mrs. Hatton.  “Jane’s house is as fine as if it was new and Martha’s governess is wearying for her.  Martha ought to be at her lessons now.  Her holiday is over by all rights.”

“The festival will be on the twenty-eighth, and they will come on the thirtieth if the weather be fine.”

“What has the weather to do with it?”

“Well, Jane does not like to travel in wet weather.  It drabbles her skirts and depresses her spirits—­always.”

“Dear me!  It is a pity she can’t order the weather she prefers.  I was taught when a year or two younger than Martha six lines that my mother bid me remember as long as I lived.  I have not forgot to mind them yet.”

“Why didn’t you teach them to me?”