"I think I'll step in and speak to Mrs.Dawson for a moment or so," she said quietly, "just while you look at your letter, then I'll go, that you may talk it over with her." She felt that her little scheme was rather a clumsy one, but she had a strong conviction that it might be well for her to be there just then.

"I will go inside," and she left him standing there in the autumn sunlight staring at the letter he held in his trembling hands.
He turned it over several times before he would make up his mind to open it.

There was always a dread overshadowing him in those days of what he might have to hear.
Miss Grace had barely got through her first greetings, and declined Patience's offer of a cup of tea "fresh-made," when the door was flung open and Thomas almost fell in.

In trouble he would have remembered his wife's affliction, and have hedged her round with every care, but joy was another thing.

It was on joy that he had built his hopes of restoring her to her former self--and here it was, in his grasp! "Mother!--Jessie!--I've heard from her!! Mother, mother, do you hear, there's news of her at last ?" Miss Grace stepped nearer and stood by the poor old woman, laying a firm hand on her shoulder, she could see how she was shaking.
"If it is good news, tell her quickly," she said anxiously.
Thomas read the expression of Miss Grace's face, and recovered himself at once.