"I am so glad," she said earnestly.
"And so am I; I mean glad that you are glad. You see, if it hadn't been
for you I should never have done so well. But because I thought you
would be glad, I worked like anything."
"You should have thought of what your father would feel, not
of--of--well, it has all ended as it should, so we needn't argue. How
is your brother George?" she went on, cutting short the answer that was
rising to his lips. "I suppose I should call him Captain Arnott now, for
I hear he has been promoted. We haven't seen him since he came home last
week, from some hospital in the South of England, they say."
Anthony's face grew serious.
"I don't know; I don't quite like the look of him, and he coughs such a
lot. It seems as though he could not shake off that chill he got in the
trenches. That's why he hasn't been to call at the Rectory."
"I hope this beautiful weather will cure him," Barbara replied rather
doubtfully, for she had heard a bad report of George Arnott's health.
Then to change the subject she added, "Do you know, we had a visitor
yesterday, Aunt Maria in the flesh, in a great deal of flesh, as Janey
says."
"Do you mean Lady Thompson?"
She nodded.
"Aunt Thompson and her footman and her pug dog.
Pages:
271
272
273
274
275
276
277
278
279
280
281
282
283
284
285
286
287
288
289
290
291
292
293
294
295