"My darling Rose! Suppose Lady Desborough were to come back with Clare, what would she think?"

"It was so hot in the kitchen, Pauline," Rose answered meekly. "And I do so want to learn how to cook. Mrs. Richards' pastry is like leather. Just look here. This book says"--

But Pauline laughingly put it from her. "My dear child, it is worse than Greek to me. And I really do object to see lumps of raw dough about.

Please take them away. I never like to think of my food till I see it on the table. Good-morning, Miss Sampson. When you have finished those letters you will not be required any more. I will pay you before you go.

Miss Desborough has gone out with Lady Desborough."

Clare had left a kind message for Rhoda, and when Pauline went into the next room to take off her hat, Rose hastened to give it.

"She was so sorry not to be here to say good-bye to you, Miss Sampson. She feels that you have been such a help to her."

Rhoda had listened to Pauline with a smile faintly lurking at the corner of her firm lips, but now the smile flashed brightly out at Rose.

"It has been very pleasant work," she said. "I am sorry it is over. But your aunt has promised me some more work, Miss Merivale. I am to go down to Woodcote again on Thursday."

Rose was surprised, and she could not help showing it. "You went yesterday, didn't you?" she said rather stiffly. "It is a long way for you to go."

"I am very glad to go," Rhoda answered. She did not tell Rose she had spent the day at Woodcote; something in Rose's manner checked her. But she did not begin her writing at once. Rose had taken up the cookery book again, and was bending puzzled brows over it. Rhoda watched her for a moment, her eyes full of admiration. Miss Desborough was pretty, but there was not a soft line in her face. Rose looked a child still for all her womanly height. Rhoda said to herself that she must be much younger than her brother. It was easy to see that they were brother and sister. Rose had just the same straight brow she had noticed in him yesterday, and her eyebrows, like his, were a shade or two darker than her hair.

"Would you let me see if I could help you, Miss Merivale?" Rhoda said, after a moment. "I did all the cooking at home before we came to England."

But Rose shut up her book. "Pauline will scold again if I don't carry all this away," she said, with a laugh. "And I mean to have some cookery lessons, if I can get them. But Woodcote is so far from everywhere. It is like being buried alive."

Rhoda, who had known what it was to live for years fifty miles from a town, did not know how to answer this. And Rose, angry with herself for saying so much to Miss Sampson, caught up the pastry board and rolling-pin and retreated to the kitchen. She came back in a few moments with her ap.r.o.n off, and found Rhoda busy at work, and Pauline in a low chair by the fire with her hands clasped round her knees. Pauline had changed her outdoor dress for an odd, picturesque frock of sage green Liberty serge, touched with yellow. She had fastened some daffodils in her belt, and looked like an aesthetic picture of Spring.

"Arrange my daffodils for me, there is a good little Rose," she said, smiling lazily at Rose as she entered. "The brown pots, not the blue ones.

Now Clare is going to her native fens, I mean this room to be a thing of beauty and a joy for ever. How good it will be to get rid of the click of that typewriter!"

"Don't say that to Clare," laughed Rose, as she brought the brown pots to the table. "She was telling me this morning it was the thing she would miss most."

Pauline lifted her dark eyebrows. "Did she really say that? But it is exactly like Clare; she is more a machine herself than a human being. I was very fond of her once, but I have found her trying to live with. They say you never know a woman till you have lived six months with her. Don't put too many daffodils in one pot, my Rose; they want plenty of room to show themselves."

Rhoda had finished the work Clare had left for her. She carefully put her papers together, and rose from the table. Pauline looked carelessly round at her. "Ah, are you going, Miss Sampson? Here is the money Miss Desborough left for you. Just write a receipt and leave it on the table, please. You understand that you are not wanted any more, don't you?"

"I knew this was to be my last day, thank you," said Rhoda composedly. She smiled to herself as she wrote her receipt. She half thought of mentioning her visit to Leyton, but she refrained. There was not a touch of spitefulness in Rhoda's nature, and she had no wish to humiliate Pauline; but the humorous side of the situation was thoroughly enjoyed by her.

Rose went on arranging her flowers in silence for a minute or two after Rhoda went away; then she spoke rather constrainedly.

"Why do you dislike poor Miss Sampson so, Pauline? Do you know that you were quite unkind to her?"

"Was I? It is necessary to keep that sort of girl at arm's length; she would become intolerable if you didn't. Thank goodness, we have seen the last of her. Now, come and sit down here and have a talk. What shall we do this afternoon, Rose? Only two more days! What do you want to do most?"

"Clare and Lady Desborough are coming back to tea," suggested Rose, with a laugh. "You are not very hospitable, Pauline. And to-morrow we shall be busy all day. My time will soon be over, won't it? Do you know, Aunt Lucy has asked Miss Sampson down to Woodcote again to-morrow, Pauline? I wonder if she has found out that she is related to Cousin Lydia's husband. I don't see what Aunt Lucy can want her for."

"Poor relations are a great nuisance," said Pauline sharply. "It is foolish of your aunt to have anything to do with her. But don't let us talk of Sampson, Rosie; let us talk of ourselves. Suppose for a moment that you were going to stay with me through the summer, just let us plan what we would do."

Rose shook her head.

"It would be too tantalising, Pauline. I shall spend the summer at Woodcote. I know exactly what I shall be doing every hour of the day, and every day of the week, and every week of the month. But don't let us talk of it. Let us talk of the concert last night. Wasn't it wonderful? I wish Tom had been there; he would have understood better why Laura's singing irritates me. Pauline, I must get some good music lessons somehow. Do speak to Aunt Lucy about it on Friday. You are quite right; I am wasting my time as it is."

CHAPTER VI. PAULINE'S DIPLOMACY.

When Rhoda got home that morning, she found that Mrs. M'Alister had already begun to pack. Ned was to go to Plymouth almost at once, and Mr.

Price was anxious that his sister and the younger boys should return with him on the following Sat.u.r.day. Little Hugh was to stay at Leyton for the present; Rhoda was to bring him down when she came for her holiday in August.

Mrs. M'Alister did not guess how hard Rhoda found it to be cheerful as she helped with the packing. A great load was lifted off her heart by the ready way in which the girl had acquiesced in the new arrangements. Much as it grieved her to part with Rhoda, she could not help looking forward with delight to going back to the dear old farmhouse in which her childhood had been spent. And Rhoda understood exactly how she felt. There was no bitterness in her heart; but, brave and cheery as she was, she dreaded to think of the lonely days that lay before her.

She did not go down to Woodcote till Thursday afternoon. Miss Merivale had asked her to come early and spend the day, but she had written to explain how it was that she could not spare the time; her aunt wanted her help in packing.

The old house looked more beautiful and peaceful than ever, steeped in the golden afternoon sunlight. Rhoda thought with a thrill of wonder of Rose's words about her home. How could she have spoken so!

Miss Merivale was in the library, with all the windows open to the garden.

Rhoda was tremulously surprised at her greeting. She kissed her, and even when they sat down she did not leave her hand go, but held it tight, looking anxiously at her.

"I want you to tell me more about your aunt," she said. "I did not quite understand your letter. You are not going to Devonshire?"

"Oh no; I am going on with my work here," Rhoda said hastily. And after a pause she added, impelled by the yearning kindness in Miss Merivale's eyes, "Mr. Price wishes me to stay here. It is not as if I was his own niece, you see. And I am nearly twenty; I am quite able to earn my own living."

Miss Merivale dropped her hand suddenly, and rose and went to the window.

The quiver in Rhoda's voice was more than she could bear. She spoke without turning round. "I see they are carrying the tea into the garden.

Let us go out. I thought it would be pleasanter to have it out of doors.

And afterwards you shall tell me what you mean to do. I should like"--

But she checked herself. She wanted to say that she would like Rhoda to come to Woodcote; but she saw how strange such a wish would seem, both to Rhoda and to Tom and Rose. She must wait a little. She must content herself with helping her in other ways.

Tom had been obliged to go to Guilford that day on farm business; but somehow he had managed to get back early, and he strolled into the garden just as they sat down to tea, not looking in the least as if he had just ridden twelve miles at headlong speed.

A faint smile crossed Miss Merivale's pale face as she saw him. It was what she had been hoping for.

She left the talk during tea-time to him and Rhoda, who had plenty to say to each other. They were both enthusiasts about a garden, and found it intensely interesting to compare notes. After tea, Tom was eager to show Rhoda some white violets in the wood close by. He found she had never seen any.

They went off together, and Miss Merivale could hear their eager, happy voices as they searched about the wood looking for the violets, just like two children. She leant back in her chair, closing her eyes. For the moment the ache at her heart was stilled. She was hoping that all might yet come right.

Rhoda went home that evening feeling like a different creature. Mrs.

M'Alister had a jealous pang or two as she listened to her account of the happy time she had had.

"Don't you trust too much to her promises, child," she said anxiously.

"She's taken a sudden fancy to you, that's clear enough; but it mightn't last. She might take a fancy to somebody else next week, and forget all about you. I have heard of people like that."

"I don't think Miss Merivale is a bit like that," returned Rhoda stoutly.

"Hasn't she a sweet, kind face, Aunt Mary? I wish she didn't look so ill."

"Don't rest your hopes on her too much," repeated Mrs. M'Alister, shaking her head gloomily. "James will be in again to-night, and you will hear what he says. He has heard of a firm that wants a lady-clerk. We think you'd better try for it, Rhoda. I'd like to see you settled before we go away. I've been wishing and wishing this afternoon that you could go with us."