"Perhaps I shall," Emmie answered softly. "I am not satisfied as I am, that's certain!" "Those that seek Him shall find, dear Miss Emmie!" said the housekeeper earnestly. CHAPTER XII. BARBARA'S GIFT. THE tricycle, however, was returned without any more use. Ivor could not make up his mind to get on it again. "Garge" was commissioned to take it back to Windsor, pay the hire, and for the slight damage done, and there the matter ended. But when Evan was a little better, the donkey carriage was found of the greatest use, and many hours were spent in the woods, Lucia taking her sketching and Barbara her book and her dog. For Barbara had found at the cottage two things which gave her intense delight—a puppy which "Garge" was rearing for her father, and a cupboard of books which she discovered one wet day, and from which she brought volume after volume, reading aloud to her brothers and sisters when they could listen, or lying in luxurious loneliness on the wet days in the empty drawing room, buried in some tale of travel such as her heart loved. Thus the time flew away, and the three months were almost gone. Letters were coming from their father and mother, speaking of their speedy and happy return, which would be very, very soon, and telling too of renewed health and hope for the future. As Lucia looked out of her window one evening, and remembered the thoughts with which she had stood there three months ago, she could only fall on her knees and thank God that He had not allowed her to go on in her impatience and rebellion. He had enabled her to yield her will to Him, and then had given her back a hundredfold in happiness and peace. For when she looked round at the change in her step-brothers and sisters, her heart melted with thankfulness. One morning, soon after breakfast, a telegram was put into her hand. "They are coming to-day—to-day!" she exclaimed, as nurse and children crowded round her. "They are coming here. They ask if we can make room for them." "Make room for them?" echoed everybody. "Why, if we could squeeze flat—" "I must telegraph back," began Lucia. "Where do they date from? Why, from Newhaven. They are there, waiting for my answer! Oh, mother! Oh, father!" And as she put her arm round Evan and supported him to a seat, she realized as never before what a care the care of them had been, and what a relief it was to know it was over. What a busy morning they had. How Evan even tried to help by cutting the frill for the ham and running the tape through some fresh window-curtains. Lucia noticed that in his eager expectation, some of the fragile look went out of his face, and a sweet, gentle brightness took its place. At last all was done. Everything was looked over for the last time, and the children decided that nothing was wanting for the perfection of a welcome. "We will go into the dining room and listen for the wheels," said Ivor. "Evan is there, and we'll be with him."