about the dogs.”  Donald and Bess had not yet ceased to tear at her in frantic efforts to express their delight.  “Are you glad I’ve come back, Donald?” she asked in a low voice as she knelt and put her arms round his neck and nestled her face against his, and let him lick her with his great, soft tongue.  “Ah, if you are only half as glad as I am, doggie, your heart must be half breaking with the joy of it.  And if I’m lean, you are disgracefully fat, Bess.  Don’t tell me you’ve missed me, for I don’t believe it.”

It was some time before Jessie could drag her upstairs; and the sight of her old room, as cheerful as the hall, with the huge fire, almost unnerved her, and when she was alone she sank upon her knees beside the bed in a thanksgiving which was none the less deep and fervent for its muteness.

When she came down the dinner was ready and Mr. Wordley was standing in front of the fire awaiting her.  She was glad that Jason had not had time to procure a new livery, was glad of the old shabbiness of the room, that its aspect was not yet changed, and that it greeted her with all its old familiarity, Mr. Wordley would not let her talk until she had made, at any rate, a pretense of eating; but when they had gone into the drawing-room, he drew a chair to the fire for her, and said;

“Now, my dear, I am afraid I shall have to talk business.  I shall be too busy to come over to-morrow.”  He laughed.  “You see I have left all my other clients’ affairs, to come after my stray lamb:  I expect I shall find them in a pretty muddle.  Now, my dear, before I go I should like you to tell me exactly what you would like to do.  As I have explained to you, you are now the mistress of a very large fortune with which you can do absolutely what you like.  Would you like to live here, or would you like to take a house in London, or go abroad?”

Ida looked up a little piteously.

“Oh, not go to London or abroad!” she said.  “Can I not live here?  If you knew how I feel—­how the sight of the place, the thought that I am under the old roof again—­”

She looked round the faded, stately room lovingly, wistfully, and Mr. Wordley nodded sympathetically.

“Of course you can, my dear,” he said.  “But equally o’ course, you will now want to restore the old place.  There is a great deal to be done, and I thought that perhaps you would like to go away while the work was being carried on.”

Ida shook her head.

“No, I would like to stay, even if I have to live in the kitchen or one of the garrets.  It will be a delight to me to watch the men at work; I should never grow tired of it.”