Then Isabel began to cry softly. "Oh, Robert, Robert! Such good news! Tell me all about them!" she exclaimed. And Robert told her all that Christina had said, and all that Jamie had said. He described Christina's and Rathey's appearance, he told her about the babies, he even made a few remarks about the floor and the furniture. "I must go and see her the first thing in the morning, Robert." "How soon will you start on your travels, Isabel?" "In ten days, if Lady Mary is better." "Is she sick?" "I heard this morning she had an attack of measles--very peculiar in a woman of her age." "I don't know, I'm sure. What I want is, that Christina should come into my rooms. I am going to give her all the furniture in them--everything-everything except some clothing. While you are away, she will be company for mother, who seems pitifully lonely." "That is mother's fault, Robert. These empty rooms ought to be----" "I know. There is no use speaking of it. All that hope is over. Do you think you can persuade Christina to come home?" "She would have some submissions to make to mother--will she make them?" "I think so. Go and ask her." "I will see her in the morning." In the morning there was a joyful meeting between the sisters, and Christina was delighted with Robert's plan. She had often longed for the large rooms, the wide stairways and corridors of Traquair House. She hated small rooms, and common stairs, and cabs, and remembered longingly the days when the Campbell carriage was at her beck and call. She liked plenty of servants, and her own maid and nurse would be added to the staff in Traquair House. She would be relieved of all housekeeping cares, and of the oversight of the table, a duty she particularly disliked. Besides these considerations, she could again take her proper place in society. Robert would be certain to do something for Jamie, and then she would have her income for dress and social demands. "It will be delightful, Isabel," she said. "Just what I wish, and Jamie will win round mother directly--he has that way with all women." "Then come home about five this afternoon, and bring the babies with you, especially Margaret." "Isabel, you mean?" "No, no! You must call her Margaret. As Margaret she will open mother's heart to you." About five that afternoon, Mrs. Campbell came into the big, empty dining-room. She was dressed for dinner, but there were no signs of the meal. She looked cross and forlorn, and began to grumble to herself, as she impatiently stirred the fire into a blaze. "It is too bad of Isabel," she muttered; "she cares for nothing but her own way. I am left to look after everything--house, callers, what not--and there is a ring at the door now! I hope Jepson heard it."