I turned and followed Felicity and Cecily out in a very subdued mood . Uncle Blair and the Story Girl were just coming out of the orchard . His arm was about her and hers was on his shoulder . Laughter and tears were contending in her eyes . Only once before -- when Peter had come back from the Valley of the Shadow -- had I seen the Story Girl cry . Emotion had to go very deep with her ere it touched the source of tears . I had always known that she loved her father passionately , though she rarely talked of him , understanding that her uncles and aunts were not whole-heartedly his friends . But Aunt Janet 's welcome was cordial enough , though a trifle flustered . Whatever thrifty , hard-working farmer folk might think of gay , Bohemian Blair Stanley in his absence , in his presence even they liked him , by the grace of some winsome , lovable quality in the soul of him . He had `` a way with him '' -- revealed even in the manner with which he caught staid Aunt Janet in his arms , swung her matronly form around as though she had been a slim schoolgirl , and kissed her rosy cheek . `` Sister o ' mine , are you never going to grow old ? '' he said . `` Here you are at forty-five with the roses of sixteen -- and not a gray hair , I 'll wager . '' `` Blair , Blair , it is you who are always young , '' laughed Aunt Janet , not ill pleased . `` Where in the world did you come from ? And what is this I hear of your sleeping all night in the hammock ? '' `` I 've been painting in the Lake District all summer , as you know , '' answered Uncle Blair , `` and one day I just got homesick to see my little girl . So I sailed for Montreal without further delay . I got here at eleven last night -- the station-master 's son drove me down . Nice boy .
The old house was XXXXX darkness and I thought it would be a shame to rouse you all out of bed after a hard day 's work .
So about as at from in of though to with