when he had unfolded his news than from any
reception it had before or after. Cicely was still in their black books.

"Oh, so you have returned at last," said Aunt Ellen, receiving her kiss,
but not returning it. Aunt Laura was not so unforgiving. She kissed her
and said, "O Cicely, if you had known what unhappiness your action would
cause, I am sure you would have thought twice about it."

Cicely sat down. "I have made it all right with father now," she said.
"I would rather not talk about it if you don't mind, Aunt Laura. Muriel
sent her love to you. I said I should come and see you directly I came
back."

"When I was a girl," said Aunt Ellen--"I am speaking now of nearly
eighty years ago--I upset a glass of table ale at the commencement of
luncheon, and your great-grandfather was very angry. But that was
nothing to this."

"I have seldom seen your dear father so moved," said Aunt Laura. "I
cannot see very well without my glasses, and I had mislaid them; they
were on the sideboard in the dining-room where I had gone to get out a
decanter of sherry; but I believe there were tears in his eyes. If it
was so it should make you all the more sorry, Cicely."

"I am very sorry," said Cicely, "but father has forgiven me. Mayn't we
talk about something else?"

"Your father was very high-spirited as a child," said Aunt Ellen, "and I
and your aunts had some difficulty in managing him; not that he was a
naughty child, far from it, but he was full of life. And you must always
remember that he was a boy. But I feel quite sure that he would never in
his wildest moments have thought of going away from home and leaving no
word of his address."

"I sent a telegram," pleaded Cicely.

"Ah, but telegrams were not invented in the days I am speaking of," said
Aunt Ellen.

"Pardon me, sister," said Aunt Laura. "The electric telegraph was
invented when Edward was a boy, but not when we were girls."

"That may be so, sister," said Aunt Ellen. "It is many years since we
were girls, but I say that Edward would not have run away."

"Certainly not," said Aunt Laura. "You should never forget, Cicely, what
a good father you have. I am sure when I heard the other day from Mr.
Hayles that your dear father had instructed him to refuse Lady Alistair
MacLeod's most advantageous offer to rent this house, solely on account
of your Aunt Ellen and myself, I felt that we were, indeed, in good
hands, and fortunate to be so."

"It is quite true,"