Such were the sort of passages which would now and then occur between them, little contests, be it said, in which she usually came off the conqueror. If she were to have a wish gratified, it would have been a few more books--something besides those odd volumes of Scott’s novels, _Zeluco_ by Doctor Moore, and _Florence McCarthy_, which comprised her whole library, and which she read over and over unceasingly. She was now in her usual place--a deep window-seat--intently occupied with Amy Robsart’s sorrows, when her father came to read what he had written in answer to Nina. If it was very brief it was very affectionate. It told her in a few words that she had no need to recall the ties of their relationship; that his heart never ceased to remind him of them; that his home was a very dull one, but that her cousin Kate would try and make it a happy one to her; entreated her to confer with the banker, to whom he remitted forty pounds, in what way she could make the journey, since he was too broken in health himself to go and fetch her. ‘It is a bold step I am counselling you to take. It is no light thing to quit a father’s home, and I have my misgivings how far I am a wise adviser in recommending it. There is, however, a present peril, and I must try, if I can, to save you from it. Perhaps, in my old-world notions, I attach to the thought of the stage ideas that you would only smile at; but none of our race, so far as I know, fell to that condition--nor must you while I have a roof to shelter you. If you would write and say about what time I might expect you, I will try to meet you on your landing in England at Dover. Kate sends you her warmest love, and longs to see you.’ This was the whole of it. But a brief line to the bankers said that any expense they judged needful to her safe convoy across Europe would be gratefully repaid by him. ‘Is it all right, dear? Have I forgotten anything?’ asked he, as Kate read it over. ‘It’s everything, papa--everything. And I _do_ long to see her.’ ‘I hope she’s like Matty--if she’s only like her poor mother, it will make my heart young again to look at her.’ CHAPTER III THE CHUMS