e like parting
from you in such a hurry?"

"They wept!" said Pixie tragically. Her shoulders approached her ears
in eloquent gesture. "But how they wept! I also wept to see them weep,
and Marie wept to leave her dear Paris." She paused, and the solemn
expression gave place to a broad smile of enjoyment.

"There wasn't a dry rag between the four of us, and Pere took snuff to
console himself, and that started him crying harder than ever. I was so
flurried I couldn't tell which was the topmost, joy or sorrow, until we
had ham and eggs for breakfast this morning, and I felt I was at home.
It's an awful thing to live in a country where there's never a bite of
solid food to cheer your spirits in the morning! Many's the time me
heart would bleed, thinking of Miles if he'd been there. Are ye glad to
see me, boys, now you know that I'm real?"

There was no doubt about that. When at last the little sister
condescended to step down from her perch, she was passed from one to
another in a series of bear-like hugs, from which she emerged flushed
and complacent, to step briskly towards Sylvia and kiss her effusively
upon the cheek.

"How d'ye do, me dear, and how's your illness? I've heard so much about
it that I expected to see you worse. You look too pretty to be an
invalid!"

"Hear, hear!" muttered Jack softly.

Sylvia blushed and gripped the little hand which lay so confidingly in
her own.

"Thank you very much. I am getting better, but I don't feel at all
pretty. I'm lame, and have to limp about wherever I go, and my hair is
tumbling out. I have the greatest difficulty to make it look
respectable. I shall be bald soon!"

Pixie craned forward and examined her head with sorrowful candour.

"It _is_ thin! Ye can see the scalp shining through like shot silk.
You'll look like an old man with a bald head; but never mind! Think of
the saving in the morning! It will be so easy to do your hair!"

There was a burst of laughter from brothers and sisters, while Sylvia
covered her face with her hands and rocked to and fro in mock despair.

"You need never be unduly elated by a compliment from Pixie, Miss
Trevor," said Geoffrey Hilliard meaningly. "She is the most
transparently truthful person I ever encountered, and favoured me with
several character sketches of my wife before we were engaged, which
might have warned me of my fate if I'd been a sensible fellow. I have
remembered them, Pixie, many a time since