Hawkesworth was still the Eleanor of old. In
contrast with the splendid furniture of the apartments, a pile of
shirts was on the table, Eleanor's well-known work-basket on the
floor, and the ceaseless knitting close at hand.
Much news was exchanged in the few minutes that elapsed before
Eleanor carried off her sister to her room, indulging her by the way
with a peep at little Harry, and one kiss to his round red cheek as
he lay asleep in his little bed. It was not Eleanor's fault that she
did not entirely dress Lily, and unpack her wardrobe; but Lilias
liked to show that she could manage for herself; and Eleanor's praise
of her neat arrangements gave her as much pleasure as in days of
yore.
The evening passed very happily. Eleanor's heart was open, she was
full of enjoyment at meeting those she loved, and the two sisters sat
long together in the twilight, talking over numerous subjects, all
ending in Beechcroft or the baby.
Yet when Lily awoke the next morning her awe of Eleanor began to
return, and she felt like a child just returned to school. She was,
however, mistaken; Eleanor assumed no authority, she treated Lily as
her equal, and thus made her feel more like a woman than she had ever
done before.
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