All through tea in the Grails’ parlour the talk was of Thyrza.  How was she passing her time?  Was it as fine at Eastbourne as here in London?  What sort of a lady was Mrs. Ormonde?  And when the three drew chairs about the fire, Gilbert had something of moment to communicate, something upon which he had resolved since Thyrza’s departure.

‘Lyddy,’ he began, ’mother and I think Thyrza had better not go to work again.  As she is going to miss to-morrow morning, it’ll be a good opportunity for making the change.  Isn’t it better?’

Lydia did not reply at once.  Such a decided step as this reminded her how near the day was when, though they would still be near to each other, Thyrza and she must in a sense part.  The thought was always a heavy one; she did not willingly entertain it.

‘Do you think,’ she asked at length, ’that Thyrza will feel she ought to stay at home?’

’I think she will, when I’ve spoken to her about it.  We want you both to have your meals with us.  Thyrza can help mother, and she’ll have more time for her reading.  Of course you must be just as much together as you like, but it would be pleasant if you would come down here to meals.  Will you do us that kindness, Lyddy?’

‘But,’ Lydia began, doubtfully.  Mrs. Grail interrupted her: 

’Now I know what you’re going to say, my dear, It isn’t nice of you, Lyddy, if you spoil this little plan we’ve made.  Just for the next three weeks!  After that you can be as independent as you please; yes, my dear, just as proud as you please.  There’s a great deal of pride in you, you know, and I don’t like you the worse for it.’

‘I don’t think I’m proud at all,’ said Lydia, smiling and reddening a little.  ‘If Thyrza agrees, then I will.  Though I—­’

‘There now, that’s all we want,’ interposed the old lady.  ’That’s very good of you.’

By the first post in the morning arrived a letter addressed to ’Miss Trent,’ bearing the Eastbourne post-mark.  Lydia for a moment had a great fear, but, when she had torn the envelope open, the first lines put her at rest.  It was Mrs. Ormonde who wrote, and in words which made Lydia feel very happy.  With the exception of a line once or twice from Mary Bower, she had never received a letter in her life; she was very proud of the honour.  Gilbert had just come home for breakfast, and all rejoiced over the news of Thyrza.

It was hard for Lydia to sit through her morning at the workroom.  Thyrza was to be at home by twelve o’clock.  As soon as the dinner-hour struck, Lydia flung her work aside, and was in Walnut Tree Walk in less time than it had ever before taken her.  Instinct told her that the child would be waiting upstairs alone, and not in the Grails’ room.  She flew up.  Thyrza rose from a chair and met her.

Not, however, with the outburst of childish rapture which Lydia had anticipated.  Their parts were reversed.  When the elder sister sprang forward, breathless with her haste, unable to utter anything but broken terms of endearment, Thyrza folded her in her arms, and, without a spoken word, kissed her with grave tenderness.  Her cheeks had the most unwonted colour; her eyes gleamed, and as Lydia’s caresses continued, glistened with moisture.