Hugh takes no notice of this interruption, but goes on as if nothing had been said.
"Yes, we were talking about you last night, mother and I, and what do you think she said about you, Molly, particularly?"
"She told me she considered that you had had quite as much to do with influencing me for good as she had. I told her of some of your lectures too, and she says you are a right-minded, good girl, and she admires you for what she calls your 'spirit' in taking me to task as you did."
Molly blushes up to the roots of her chestnut curls at this praise from one whose opinion is to be valued.
"Did you tell her about the _dust_?" she inquires.
"Of course I did!" replies Hugh, laughing, "and she enjoyed the story immensely. And now, Molly, you will write to me while I'm away, won't you? You can lecture and blow me up as much as you like, only let me go away thinking that my little mentor will still take the same interest in scapegrace Hugh that she has hitherto."
"Yes, I will, Hugh; here's my hand upon it. Of course it is all nonsense," she adds suddenly; "but if--if I have really been of any use in--in urging you on, you know, I am _very_ glad. And now, would you like me to tell you a secret? Well, the slippers are more than half done already! Good-bye; be a good boy!" and without waiting for another word she runs back to the house, never stopping till she has reached the steps, when she turns round and waves her hand with rather a feeble smile.
She is not _quite_ sure whether it is Hugh still standing where she left him, or whether it is only the gate-post, for there are two large tears trickling down the now saddened and softened face of plain-speaking little Molly, which seriously obstruct her vision.
There is quite a feeling of desolation all through the house after this second departure, for although not actually one of themselves, Hugh and his brothers have so often been down to see them that he is missed as much as if he were almost.
In a few days Doris's first letter arrives, and they are all relieved to find that she is less home-sick than might have been expected. Their own spirits rise in proportion therefore.
"We had a bad passage across, at least so aunt says. I didn't feel it a bit though. Uncle disappeared mysteriously, and as he looked rather pale when he reappeared on our reaching Calais, I strongly suspected he was not very flourishing either. I have made a grand discovery, however, through this bad weather. Nothing more nor less than the reason why aunt will never take off her bonnet unless she has a cap at hand to put on immediately. Aunt, I must tell you, very soon expressed her intention of going down into the cabin, so I went with her and made her as comfortable as circumstances would permit. It was such a dreadfully close, stuffy atmosphere that I was thankful to get up into the air again. After a time I thought I ought to go down and see how poor aunty was getting on; so after a good deal of stumbling and floundering (for the boat was rolling very much) I at last managed to get down, and there I found her in a truly pitiable state. She had been dreadfully ill, but so it seems had been nearly all the other people, and I suppose the stewardess could not pay much attention to so many, for I found aunt in a miserable state, half on and half off the sofa, and looking as pale as death. 'O, Doris child!' she gasped faintly, 'if ever I get out of this boat alive I will never go into another, if I have to live all my life in France!' Well, I raised her up and placed her a little more comfortably, and in doing this her bonnet fell off, and--you girls won't believe me, perhaps, but I daresay mother knows--there, as plain to see as anything, was a little bald patch, about as big as half-a-crown, on the top of her head! Poor aunt! she was in far too great misery to think about such trifles then, and only told me to put her feet a little higher and to bring her smelling-bottle. But I shall _always_ think of it whenever anyone asks her to take her bonnet off! By the by, aunt says she knows Mr. Ferrars quite well. She calls him 'A very estimable young man!' How _dreadful_! She says, too, we may meet him somewhere or other abroad. He told her he was going to 'knock about a little' on the Continent. The expression did not come spontaneously from aunt; I dragged it out of her, under protest! I wonder if we _shall_ see him!"