And now Silva put her head in the hollow of her elbow and sobbed. But they were not the sobs of a child. They were hard and tearless. They shook Silva’s whole body. Maida rushed to her side. She put her arms about Silva; kissed her again and again. “Don’t think of it any more, Silva dear,” she begged. “I know it isn’t as bad as you fancy. Will you let me tell my father about it? My father is a wonderful man. It is almost as though he had magic power--like a genie. He’ll find some way out for you, I’m sure. Will you let me tell him?” It was some moments before Silva’s whispered “Yes” came from between her racking sobs. But very soon thereafter she sat up. “Here comes somebody,” she whispered. “Please don’t say anything about Nesta.” CHAPTER XXIV GUESTS When Maida turned the bend in the path just before it came out on the Little House, she found Rosie, Laura, Arthur, Harold and Dicky drawn up in a straight soldier-like line. “We have to report that--” they all chanted in a solemn voice. “Mother is very comfortable and will return to us in a week,” announced the radiant Dicky. “Granny Flynn has come back,” announced the beaming Laura. “Floribel is in the kitchen,” announced the smiling Harold. “Zeke is in the garden,” announced the triumphant Arthur. “Your father is in the living room waiting for you,” announced the sparkling Rosie. “My father!” Maida exclaimed in a happy voice. “My father! Oh what a blessing that is!” She dropped her bicycle. “Oh Rosie, will you put my wheel away for me? I want to see my father so much.” She didn’t wait for Rosie’s hearty, “Yes, of course, goose!” but raced across the grass. In a few minutes an unprecedented activity broke out in the Little House. Down stairs in the living room, Mr. Westabrook, who had been most of the time glued to the telephone, was still telephoning. Up-stairs in the Little House, Floribel was getting the spare room ready for one guest. Up-stairs in the barn, Zeke was putting up a cot for another. In the kitchen, Rosie was frantically making popovers. Between the flower garden and the spare room, Laura and Maida were swinging like a pair of active pendulums, decorating with flowers. Outside on lawn and in vegetable garden, the boys were working frantically putting everything in what Rosie called “apple pie order.” Everywhere the smaller children, to whom for the moment nobody was paying any attention, were getting in everybody’s way. About noon the big gray limousine appeared at the end of the trail. Zeke hurried down to it. He and Botkins lifted out the slight figure lying in the back, bore it up the path to the house and over the stairs to the guest chamber. An excited queue of children--all the young inhabitants of the Little House in fact--followed.