IT was quite an event in the Murray family to have such people as the Fairfaxes come to supper, and perhaps it was not strange that great preparations were being made; but you might have thought that Mrs. Murray expected Mrs. Fairfax to go straight through her cottage on a tour of critical inspection¹. The whole house was put in apple-pie order—whatever that may mean—from the cool, clean-smelling cellar, to the little triangular² attic³, redolent of thyme and sage⁴ and other dried things hanging from the rafters. Not that there was ever much disorder⁵ in that neat little household; but the fact that the Fairfaxes were coming seemed to lend an extra touch of thoroughness to everything that Mrs. Murray did.
 
Soon after the children's arrival Sister Julia knocked at the door, and was warmly welcomed. She busied herself right away with unpacking⁶ the trunks, which had been sent down that morning, while Regie sat at the pretty curtained window of the room that was to be his, telling Sister Julia where to put his own particular treasures. Already he was fond of that little window, from which he could look straight out to sea.
 
Nan was busy in the kitchen, cutting out the thinnest of little round cookies from dough⁷ that her mother had mixed. Some of them were already in the oven, and sending such a delicious savoury smell up into Regie's room!
 
Harry⁸ was active, making things comfortable for Ned and Hereward in the barn.
 
It was a very happy afternoon all round, though withal a trifle sad too; for there is always something in the atmosphere more or less depressing on the eve of any decided⁹ change, no matter how satisfactorily everything may have been arranged for everybody. At six o'clock Mr. and Mrs. Fairfax came down the beach, and at half-past six supper was on the table. Such an inviting¹⁰ little supper-table, with its snowy cloth, polished plated service, and shining glass lamp in the centre, to say nothing of innumerable good things to eat, including a dish heaped high with a delicious “floating island,” such as few besides Mrs. Murray know how to make. The canary, in his cage over the plants, was singing away for dear life, as if he wanted to make the occasion just as merry as possible; and Hereward and Ned, who must have sniffed¹¹ the buttered toast and broiled¹² mackerel from outside, scratched away at the door trying to gain admission. Then they bounded to the window, and planting their paws upon the sill, peered in with a most beseeching¹³ look on their intelligent faces.
 
I wonder what they thought of what they saw?
 
The family were standing¹⁴ at their places at the table with their heads bowed, and Captain Murray was asking a blessing¹⁵, a long blessing with a little prayer midway, for the dear friends going on so “distant a journey.”
 
Ah! Ned and Hereward, there lies the difference; true and loving and grateful as you are, you cannot comprehend that there is a Father in heaven willing to hear and answer the prayer of, every soul He has created.
 
“Let the good fellows in to-night,” said Captain Murray, when the blessing was over, and he discovered the dogs at the window. Harry unlatched the door only too gladly, and they came leaping in; but acting¹⁶ under orders from their lord and master, soon dropped quietly down in one corner to wait as patiently as possible for their own supper time. Regie sat next to Mamma Fairfax, holding his fork in the wrong hand now and then, that he might give her left hand a squeeze under the table. Regie was happy and contented¹⁷, and yet there was a real little ache in his heart. She was going a long way from home, that dear Mamma Fairfax of his, and how could he help feeling somewhat sad about it?
 
Mr. Fairfax was apparently¹⁸ very full of fun that night, and amused the children, telling of certain strange pranks¹⁹ of his own when he was a boy.
 
Mrs. Murray laughed whenever the others did, but she really did not hear much that was going on, she was so thoroughly²⁰ preoccupied²¹ in seeing if Mrs. Fairfax would not have another biscuit, or if Mr. Fairfax's cup was empty, and in caring that everyone had plenty to eat. When supper was finished, Sister Julia in her quiet, helpful way insisted upon aiding Mrs. Murray to clear the table. Little Nan attended to her regular share of the work, and as a result, soon paraded a wonderfully bright row of tumblers on the lowest shelf of the dresser. When the red cloth had been laid on the table, Captain Murray brought out a great map, and they all gathered about while Mr. Fairfax showed them the plan of their journey.
 
“You'll get it out often and keep track of us, won't you?” he said to Regie, taking the crutches²² from his hand and lifting him to his knee.
 
“Every night,” Regie promised, solemnly.
 
“Not every night, Rex,” said Mr. Fairfax. “That will not be necessary, because you see we shall spend a week in London, and another whole week in Berlin, and two weeks perhaps in Paris.”
 
“Shall you?” asked Regie, ruefully.
 
“Why, to be sure; have you any objections, Rex?”
 
“Oh, I thought you'd keep going and going until you got back again. I shall not like to think of you as stopping so long anywhere.”
 
“We shall come home just as soon,” laughed Mr. Fairfax, giving that little adopted boy of his the most genuine sort of a fatherly hug.
 
All too soon it was nine o'clock, and time for the children to go to bed.
 
Mrs. Fairfax went up herself with Regie. Sister Julia had been up before her and lighted the candle, and laid Regie's night-dress out on the bed.
 
“You will try not to give Mrs. Murray any trouble, won't you, dear?” said Mrs. Fairfax, helping²³ Regie to undress.
 
“Yes, I will, Mamma Fairfax,” Regie answered, with a little quiver in his voice.
 
“And you will write to me once a week?”
 
“Yes, mamma,” with two little quivers.
 
“And you will do just as Sister Julia tells you?”
 
“Yes,” and with a great sob²⁴ Regie hid his face on her shoulder.
 
“Why, Rex darling, do you really care so much?” said Mrs. Fairfax, with tears in her own eyes. “Well, I am proud that you do, and you will be all the more glad to have us home again. In the meantime, you will be very happy in this dear little home with Harry and Nan.”
 
“Yes, I know I will,” said Regie, with a shadow of a smile.
 
“And your little crutches will be hanging on the wall long before that time, because you will have no further need of them.”
 
“Yes, I know,” said Regie, with a face almost wreathed in smiles at the thought, as he scrambled²⁵ into bed.
 
Then Mr. Fairfax ran up the little flight, two steps at a time, to bid him good-bye.
 
There was considerable whispering and hugging between the little fellow inside the bed and the big fellow outside, and then in another moment Papa Fairfax was gone.
 
And then it was Mamma Fairfax's turn. “I will send Sister Julia right up,” she said, for Regie should not be left alone that night. “And now two of your best hugs and five of your best kisses—and now, my own dear little Rex, good-night and goodbye.”