To tell the truth, they were afraid to see their mother. They had shut away the idea of clasping her hand, of looking into her face. On that night when she lay close to death they would have given themselves gladly to save her, but that night and this were as the poles asunder. All the old selfish ideas, all the old devotion to Number One, that utter disregard for Number Two, were as strong as ever within them. They disliked Marcia more than they had ever disliked her. Their month at the Carters' had effectually spoiled them. But time and circumstances are relentless. The Aldworths were to return to their home the next day, and although Molly dreamed that something came to prevent it, and although Ethel vowed that she would implore Clara to keep her on as a sort of all-round useful sort of lady companion, and although Nesta threatened--her favourite threat--by the way--to run away, nothing did happen. Nesta did not run away; Ethel was not adopted as Mabel's slave; Molly was forced to go with just a nod and a good-natured regret from Jim. "I'll miss you a bit at first, but I'll come round and see you, and you'll come to see us; but you are going back to your mother, and you will be pleased." And then he was off to attend to his school, for he was still a big schoolboy. Clay and Mabel were heartily tired of the Aldworth girls. Penelope was slightly annoyed at parting from Nesta, but only--and she vowed this quite openly--because she was able to shirk her lessons when Nesta was present. And so they went away, not even in the dogcart, for Jim could not spare the time, but humbly and sadly on foot, and their trunks were to follow later on. CHAPTER TWELVE. THE NEW LEAF. As soon as ever the three Aldworth girls entered the house, they were met by their father. This in itself was quite unlooked-for. As a rule, he never returned home until time for late dinner in the evening. He was a very busy professional man, and was looked up to by his fellow townspeople. He now stood gravely in the hall, not going forward when he saw the girls, but waiting for them to come up to him. "Well, Molly," he said, "how do you do? How do you do, Ethel?" He just touched Nesta's forehead with his lips. "I want you three in my study," he said. "Good gracious," said Molly in a whisper, "it's even more awful than we expected." But Ethel and Nesta felt subdued, they scarcely knew why. They all went into the study, and Mr Aldworth shut the door. "Now, girls," he said, "you have come back. You are, let me tell you, exceedingly lucky. That which happened a month ago might have brought sorrow into your young lives which you could never have got over. That kind of silent sorrow which lasts through the years, and visits one when one is dying. That sorrow might have come to you, but for your sister Marcia." "Father," began Molly.