"Hannah needs him more than I do," she would say to herself, but her sweet face was always brighter, and in her great black eyes there was a softer light when she knew he was coming to break the monotony of her lonely life.
After her marriage, Geraldine did not often honor Allington with her presence. It was far too quiet there to suit her, and Lucy lived too much the life of a recluse. No little breakfasts, no lunches, no evening parties at which she could display her elegant Paris costumes; nothing except now and then a stupid dinner party, to which the rector and his wife were invited, and that detestable Miss McPherson, who said such rude things, and told her her complexion was not what it used to be, and that she looked older than her sister Lucy. Miss McPherson was an abomination, and going to the country was a bore, but still Geraldine felt obliged to visit Allington occasionally, and especially on Thanksgiving day, when it is expected that the sons and daughters of New England will return to the old home, and grow young again under the roof which sheltered their childhood.
And so, on the morning when our story properly opens, Mr. and Mrs. Burton Jerrold and their son Grey, a well grown lad of fourteen, left their home on Beacon street, and with crowds of other city people took the train for the country, to keep the festal day.