"I'll go over just as soon as I can and thank her," the girl thought,
clasping the beads about her neck, "and I'll keep them always and
always."
A little later, she came down-stairs all in white, a spray of the pink
and white wild roses in her belt, her soft, fair hair freshly brushed
and braided. She had been rather neglectful of her hair lately.
There was no one on the front piazza but her father, and he looked up
from his book with a smile of pleasure. "My dear, how well you are
looking! It is certainly good to see you at home again, and quite your
old self."
Hilary came to sit on the arm of his chair. "It is good to be at home
again. I suppose you know all the wonderful surprises I found waiting
me?"
"Supper's ready," Patience proclaimed from the doorway. "Please come,
because--" she caught herself up, putting a hand into Hilary's, "I'll
show you where to sit, Miss Shaw."
Hilary laughed. "How old are you, my dear?" she asked, in the tone
frequently used by visiting ministers.
"I'm a good deal older than I'm treated generally," Patience answered.
"Do you like Winton?"
"I am sure I shall like it very much." Hilary slipped into the chair
Patience drew forward politely.
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