it _was_ much
more homelike than No. 9 Market Square Place could possibly have been.
And when Frances went to bed that night, glancing with pleasure at the
pretty presents so thoughtfully provided for her--a dear little gold
pencil-case in a bracelet from Lady Myrtle, a pair of gloves from Aunt
Alison, and a handkerchief with a red embroidered border from Jacinth
and Eugene--the child felt that she had indeed a great many 'good
things' to be thankful for.

'If only'----she thought. 'Oh, how I would like to think that Bessie and
Margaret are happy too! I am so afraid that they are very, very sad
about their father.'

Christmas Day was a Thursday. It was always considered a lucky
coincidence by the young Mildmays when letters from their far-off
parents reached them on the very day of any anniversary. But this year
the Christmas budget only arrived the morning before Frances and Eugene
were returning to Thetford. Miss Mildmay sent it on by a special
messenger, knowing how anxious her nieces would be to get their letters.
And a mysterious allusion in the little note from her which accompanied
them made Jacinth start and call out to Frances.

'Look at what Aunt Alison says, before you read your letter, Francie.
What can she mean?'

This was what Jacinth pointed to: 'I have heard from your father and
mother also,' wrote Miss Mildmay. 'The great piece of news will surprise
you as much as it has surprised me. I shall be glad to have you back
again to talk it all over.' The sisters stared at each other, their lips
parted and their breath coming quickly.

Then said Jacinth at last: 'It can't be anything _wrong_, Francie. Aunt
Alison never would have written of it like that, if it had been.'

'No,' said Frances, though her voice was rather tremulous; 'of course it
can't be.'

'And,' continued Jacinth, 'how silly we are to sit here wondering about
it, when we've only to look at our letters to know! Here goes, Francie!'
and she tore open her own envelope; 'let's see which of us will get at
it first.'

Frances unfastened her letter more deliberately. It was a much shorter
one than Jacinth's, and she had scarcely glanced at the first few lines
when she sprang from her seat with a sort of shriek.

'They're coming home, Jass! that's the secret. Oh Jass, Jass, listen:
"As I may hope to see you before long, my darling, I won't attempt to
write very much." That's it. Oh Jassie, sweet, they're coming home!'

Jacinth's face had