Red Rose and Tiger Lily by L.T. Meade

It is surprising how soon, at least when we are young, the greater number of us get accustomed to things. The news of the sale of the Towers, and of Sir John Thornton's approaching marriage, had electrified the Lorrimers and the Thorntons on Thursday. Had electrified them to such a degree that even the common observances of life seemed queer and out of place. It seemed wrong to eat when one was hungry; inhuman to smile; and even when one was sleepy, it seemed necessary to go to bed with a sort of apology. Nevertheless, the hungry people had to be fed, smiles had now and then to chase away tears, and in youthful slumber sorrow was for a time forgotten.

By Saturday life was going on much as usual in the two households. The Lorrimers were not to leave the Towers for six weeks. There was no immediate necessity, therefore, for the younger members of the household to think about moving the pets. Six weeks seemed something like for ever to them. The anxious consultations of the elders were not shared by them. Mother had come home, and mother kissed them just as tenderly as ever at night, and petted them just as much in the morning, and coddled them just as persistently when there was the least scrap of anything the matter. Whenever they went away, mother would go with them, and that, after all, was the main thing. In their secret hearts, they became rather excited about the move, the packing, and the new home. Boris, it is true, sometimes woke at night with a start and a hot remembrance of the clutch the Squire had given his hand when he stood under the oak tree, and Nell sobbed out piteously once or twice, "Oh, father's face, oh, father's face; " but father was not with them and mother was, and the sun rose and set as usual, and the fruit ripened in great plenty, and the pets were all well, and it was holiday time, and mother earth was specially tranquilising and kind. By Saturday, Boris, Kitty, and Nell were to all appearance just as they were before, and even the elder members of the family behaved, as Jane Macalister expressed it, "like sensible Christians."