A Tonic

Oxford Terrace looked quite cheerful in comparison with the surrounding
roads,--and almost countrified into the bargain, now that the beech
trees were bursting into leaf. Margot passed by two or three blocks,
then mounting the steps at the corner of a new terrace, walked along
within the railed-in strip of lawn until she reached a house in the
middle of the row. A peep between draped Nottingham lace curtains
showed a luncheon table placed against the wall, after the cheerful
fashion of furnished apartments, when one room does duty for three, at
which sat two little sailor-suited lads and a pale mother, smiling
bravely at their sallies.

Margot felt the quick contraction of the heart which she experienced
afresh at every sight of Edith's changed face, but next moment she
whistled softly in the familiar key, and saw the light flash back.
Edith sprang to the door, and appeared flushed and smiling.

"Margot, how sweet of you! I am glad! Have you had lunch?"

"No. Give me anything you have. I'm awfully late. Bread and jam will
do splendidly. Halloa, youngsters, how are you? We'll defer kisses, I
think, till you are past the sticky stage. I've been prowling about the
Park for the last two hours enjoying the spring breezes, and working out
problems, and suddenly discovered it was too late to go home."

She sank down on a seat by the table, shaking her head in response to an
anxious glance. "No, not my own affairs, dear; only Ron's! Can't the
boys run away now, and let us have a chat? I know you have had enough
of them by your face, and I've such a lot to say. Don't grumble, boys!
Be good, and you shall be happy, and your aunt will take you to the Zoo.
Yes, I promise! The very first afternoon that the sun shines; but
first I shall ask mother if you have deserved it by doing what you are
told."