Molly's father was not at home when she returned; and there was no one to give her a welcome.Mrs Gibson was out paying calls, the servants told Molly.She went upstairs to her own room, meaning to unpack and arrange her borrowed books, Rather to her surprise she saw the chamber, corresponding to her own, being dusted; water and towels too were being carried in.'Is any one coming?' she asked of the housemaid.'Missus's daughter from France.Miss Kirkpatrick is coming to-morrow.' Was Cynthia coming at last? Oh, what a pleasure it would be to have a companion, a girl, a sister of her own age! Molly's depressed spirits sprang up again with bright elasticity.She longed for Mrs Gibson's return, to ask her all about it: it must be very sudden, for Mr Gibson had said nothing of it at the Hall the day before.No quiet reading now; the books were hardly put away with Molly's usual neatness.She went down into the drawing-room, and could not settle to anything.At last Mrs Gibson came home, tired out with her walk and her heavy velvet cloak.Until that was taken off, and she had rested herself for a few minutes, she seemed quite unable to attend to Molly's questions.'Oh, yes! Cynthia is coming home to-morrow, by the "Umpire," which passes through at ten o'clock.What an oppressive day it is for the time of the year! I really am almost ready to faint.Cynthia heard of some opportunity, I believe, and was only too glad to leave school a fortnight earlier than we planned.She never gave me the chance of writing to say I did, or did not, like her coming so much before the time; and I shall have to pay for her just the same as if she had stopped.And I meant to have asked her to bring me a French bonnet; and then you could have had one made after mine.But I'm very glad she's coming, poor dear.' 'Is anything the matter with her?' asked Molly.'Oh, no! Why should there be?' 'You called her "poor dear," and it made me afraid lest she might be ill.' 'Oh, no! It's only a way I got into, when Mr Kirkpatrick died.A fatherless girl - you know one always does call them "poor dears." Oh, no! Cynthia never is ill.She's as strong as a horse.She never would have felt to-day as I have done.Could you get me a glass of wine and a biscuit, my dear?
I'm.really quite faint.' Mr Gibson was much more excited about Cynthia's arrival than her own mother was.He anticipated her coming as a great pleasure to Molly, on whom, in spite of his recent marriage and his new wife, his interests principally centred.He even found time to run upstairs and see the bedrooms of the two girls; for the furniture of which he had paid a pretty round sum.'Well, I suppose young ladies like their bedrooms decked out in this way!
It's very pretty certainly, but -- ' 'I liked my own old room better, papa; but perhaps Cynthia is accustomed to such decking up.' 'Perhaps; at any rate, she'll see we've tried to make it pretty.Yours is like hers.That's right.It might have hurt her, if hers had been smarter than yours.Now, good-night in your fine flimsy bed.' Molly was up betimes - almost before it was light - arranging her pretty Hamley flowers in Cynthia's room.She could hardly eat her breakfast that morning.She ran upstairs and put on her things, thinking that Mrs Gibson was quite sure to go down to the 'George' Inn, where the 'Umpire' stopped, to meet her daughter after a two years' absence.But to her surprise Mrs Gibson had arranged herself at her great worsted-work frame, just as usual;and she, in her turn, was astonished at Molly's bonnet and cloak.'Where are you going so early, child? The fog hasn't cleared away yet.' 'I thought you would go and meet Cynthia; and I wanted to go with you.' 'She will be here in half an hour; and dear papa has told the gardener to take the wheelbarrow down for her luggage.I'm not sure if he is not gone himself.' 'Then are not you going?' asked Molly, with a good deal of disappointment.'No, certainly not.She will be here almost directly.And, besides, I don't like to expose my feelings to every passer-by in High Street.You forget I have not seen her for two years, and I hate scenes in the market-place.' She settled herself to her work again; and Molly, after some consideration, gave up her own going, and employed herself in looking out of the downstairs window which commanded the approach from the town.'Here she is - here she is!' she cried out at last.Her father was walking by the side of a tall young lady; William the gardener was wheeling along a great cargo of luggage.Molly flew to the front-door, and had it wide open to admit the new corner some time before she arrived.'Well! here she is.Molly, this is Cynthia.Cynthia, Molly.You're to be sisters, you know.' Molly saw the beautiful, tall, swaying figure, against the light of the open door, but could not see any of the features that were, for the moment, in shadow.A sudden gush of shyness had come over her just at the instant, and quenched the embrace she would have given a moment before.But Cynthia took her in her arms, and kissed her on both cheeks.'Here's mamma,' she said, looking beyond Molly on to the stairs where Mrs Gibson stood, wrapped up in a shawl, and shivering in the cold.She ran past Molly and Mr Gibson, who rather averted their eyes from this first greeting between mother and child.Mrs Gibson said, - 'Why, how you are grown, darling! You look quite a woman.' 'And so I am,' said Cynthia.'I was before I went away; I've hardly grown since, - except, it is always to be hoped, in wisdom.' 'Yes! That we will hope,' said Mrs Gibson, in rather a meaning way.Indeed there were evidently hidden allusions in their seeming commonplace speeches.
