They had scarcely recovered from the commotion of this crisis when some one again knocked at the door. “It will be _that_ doctor,” Grace said under her breath; and she was in no hurry to reply. It was only upon a second summons that she went forward slowly, reluctantly to open the door. And there outside stood Geoffrey’s mother, somewhat fluttered, somewhat red, not knowing very well how to meet the two enemies of her peace. She came in with a little eagerness and kissed them both; and then she delivered herself breathlessly of her mission. “I said I would come and see you to-day. Oh, my dears! I am afraid you thought Anna was not very kind yesterday. She is an invalid, you know; she has tempers now and then. Oh, I don’t mean you to think she has a bad temper or is unkind. Nothing at all like that; but only--you can imagine if she had a bad night or a little extra ache. We ought all to be very forbearing, you know, and put up with people who are often in pain. Dear children! when I see you here in an inn, and think how many empty rooms we have got at home--there are more rooms, a great many more rooms than you would think in the Grove Road houses. And though Anna lives with me, the house, you know--the house is mine.” They did not know very well what answer to make, but they put her in the best chair the room contained, and sat round her listening, which was, of course, the best thing to do. “Yes, the house is mine. I am the real mistress of it, though Anna often takes a great deal upon her; but I don’t mind, I really don’t mind. And when I have set my heart upon anything she never interferes. Do you know what I have come for now? I have come to take you both back with me home.” “Home!” the girls drew a long breath after the word. They seemed scarcely able to realise to themselves what it meant. “Yes, home. I have set my heart upon it. If you are Leonard Crosthwaite’s daughters--I declare,” cried Mrs Underwood, her real feelings breaking in through all the flutter of words that had been put into her mouth--“I declare I don’t know whether I wish you to be Crosthwaites or not! Two nice girls--two dear girls; I am sure you have been nicely brought up, and that your mother is a nice woman. Poor dear!” said the kind soul, wiping her eyes and forgetting her rôle altogether. “My heart bleeds for her, poor dear!”