So Mrs. Armstrong's honeymoon is cut short. Four days later she is again driving up the well-worn avenue of Nutsgrove.
It is a lovely afternoon, and, as Addie peers out of the window, a great gladness fills her heart, for every flower seems to bow its head to her in fragrant welcome, and standing on the doorstep are Pauline and Lottie waving their handkerchiefs, surrounded by half a dozen dogs giving joyous tongue, while the Widow, at a discreet distance inside the porch, is purring melodiously.
"How lovely it all looks!" she cries, hugging the girls rapturously. "How jolly it is to get home again! It seems ages and ages since I left you all. Oh, Tom"--turning to her husband, who is trying to silence the dogs--"don't stop them! They're only telling me how glad they are to have me back--their bark is music."
"You look a little tired," says Pauline, critically.
"We've been traveling since eleven. Oh, how I should like a--"
"Cup of tea. Addie, Addie, I see you retain your old habits!" laughs Pauline. "Come inside; it's all ready in the drawing-room."
"You thoughtful child! Well, Polly, I think this is as near heaven to me as any spot on earth could be," she says a little tremulously, sinking upon the sofa beside the tray. "No let me, dear; I'm not too tired for that. Where's Tom? Where's my husband?"
"Oh, he has disappeared, as any well-behaved husband would in the circumstances! I see you have him in training already, Addie."
"But he might like a cup of tea; he has not had anything since breakfast."
"He'll have a glass of wine or something in the dining-room," Pauline declares lightly. "Don't bother about him, now, but tell us about everything. You've had a real good time of it, haven't you, Addie?"
"It was very nice," she answers, with cautious guardedness--"weather lovely, delicious bathing in the morning, drives in the afternoon, and then the band on the pier at night. I think I told you all about it in my letters."
"Addie," asks Lottie, her great staring eyes fixed on her sister's uneasy face, "what's a honeymoon like? Is it very nice? Do you think I shall enjoy my honeymoon?"
"Oh, Lottie, how can I tell. It depends."
"Depends entirely whether you spend it with Mr. Right, I should say, my dear," puts in Pauline.