"Such dear, sympathetic cherubs!" said the happy girl, bending forward
to kiss one of them as she was brushing her hair. "_You_ do not ramp and
glower when one tells you that one's mother is coming home. I know you
are glad, you dear old things!"
And then, suddenly, even while she was laughing at the cherubs, a
thought struck her which sent a pang through her heart. The cherubs
would still smile, just the same, when she was gone! Ah! it was not all
delight, this great news. There was sorrow mingled with the rapture.
Her heart was with her parents, of course. The mere thought of seeing
her mother's face, of hearing her father's voice, sent the blood dancing
through her veins. And yet--she must leave the farm; she must leave
Nurse Lucy and the farmer, and they would miss her. They loved her; ah!
how could they help it, when she loved them so much? And the pain came
again at her heart as she recalled the sad smile with which the farmer
had handed her this letter. "Good news for you, Huldy," he said, "but
bad for the rest of us, I reckon!" Had he had word also, or did he just
know that this was about the time they had meant to return? Oh, but she
would come out so often to the farm! Papa and mamma would be willing,
would wish her to come; and she could not live long at a time in town,
without refreshing herself with a breath of _real_ air, country air. She
might have _wilted_ along somehow for sixteen years; but she had never
been _really_ alive--had she?--till this summer.
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