She was sure Miss Merivale would not suppose she wanted money help. She had talked of giving her work, and it was work that Rhoda was pining for.

Her strong young hands and willing brain were eager to be employed to the utmost.

It had been a hard blow to hear that she was to lose her post with Miss Desborough. But perhaps Miss Merivale would be able to help her to get something better. If she could earn a pound a week, there would be no need for Aunt Mary to tire her eyes out over that weary needlework. A pound a week would be riches added to the weekly wages Ned brought home and the interest from the money they had laid by for a rainy day. There would be no need for Aunt Mary to work for those hard shop-people any more. And Rhoda's eyes sparkled as she thought of packing up the last parcel of fine needle-work and taking it back with the message that no more was wanted.

She had been in the garden about ten minutes when Tom, after vainly looking for his aunt in the house, came through the gla.s.s door of the library to seek for her out of doors. It startled him for a moment to see a strange young lady in the garden, but before she turned and saw him he had remembered who she must be, and he went forward quickly, taking off his hat, to introduce himself.

No touch of awkwardness marred their first words to each other. Tom's frank face and pleasant greeting won Rhoda's confidence at once, and in a few moments they were chatting like old acquaintances. Tom soon found that she loved a garden as much as he did, though this was the first large English garden she had seen. He was eagerly questioning her about Australian flowers when Miss Merivale entered the library and caught sight of them through the window.

The colour flowed into her pale face as she watched them talking to each other. For the first time she saw how Woodcote might be Tom's and yet be Rhoda's too.

CHAPTER V. "A MERRY HEART GOES ALL THE WAY."

Dusk had fallen before Rhoda got back to Acacia Road. The omnibus stopped at the corner, and as she went down the dreary street carrying a big bunch of flowers from the old garden, she might have come straight from Arcady, so bright her face was. Mrs. M'Alister was watching for her from the window with the boys, and they were all at the door to meet her.

"My dear, I was getting anxious about you," said Mrs. M'Alister, as they went into the sitting-room, Rhoda holding little Willie in her arms. "You are much later than you expected."

"Miss Merivale begged me to stay. Oh, Aunt Mary, she has been so kind! But I will tell you all about it presently. How tired you look, Aunt Mary!

Jack and Willie, I hope you have been good?"

"They have been very good," said Mrs. M'Alister hastily. "I have been trying to get my work finished. Give me your hat and jacket, darling; Jack shall take them upstairs for you. You have had a long day. How beautiful those flowers are! They scent the room already. English flowers are sweeter than our flowers used to be. But we had a lovely garden, hadn't we?" She was speaking very nervously, and she kissed Rhoda again as she took her hat and jacket from her. "I am so glad Miss Merivale was so kind, dear."

"Oh, she was wonderfully kind. And she has given me some more programmes to do. I am to take them to her on Thursday."

"That will be another nice change for you, dear. You look all the better for a breath of country air," was Mrs. M'Alister's nervously-spoken answer.

"Uncle James says we are all to live in the country with him," broke in Jack, who had been watching for an opportunity to make his voice heard.

"And we shall have cream every day, and see the pigs fed."

"Uncle James?" said Rhoda, looking at Mrs. M'Alister. A little shadow had fallen on her face. Mrs. M'Alister's elder brother had been the only person who had ever made her feel that she was an outsider and had no real claim to the place she held in the family.

Mrs. M'Alister's anxious face had clouded over too. "My dear, I did not want to speak of it till after tea. James is coming in again this evening, when Ned is home. Jack and Willie, run and ask Mrs. Ellis if the kettle is boiling yet. Rhoda will want some tea."

"I had tea before I came away," Rhoda said, as the boys ran off. "When did Uncle James come, Aunt Mary?"

"This afternoon, dear. He got to London last night. And he went down to the works this morning, and saw Ned and Mr. Howard. Oh, Rhoda, they want Ned to go to Plymouth!"

Rhoda looked at her aunt. She understood now what those new lines of anxiety in her face meant which she had noticed the moment she came in.

"To Plymouth, Aunt Mary? But that is a long way off."

"They have a branch there, and they want Ned to go. James says it is a splendid thing for him. And he wants me to go down there and live with him, Rhoda. His farm is only three miles from Plymouth."

She did not look at Rhoda as she spoke, but kept fingering the tablecloth nervously, with her eyes cast down. For a few seconds Rhoda was silent.

Then her voice was very cheerful. "Why, you will be quite close to Ned, Aunt Mary. And the country air will be so good for the boys. I think it is a splendid plan."

Mrs. M'Alister gave her a piteous glance. "If only you could go too, Rhoda darling. But James says"--

"How could I get work in the country, Aunt Mary? And Miss Merivale has promised that she will get me plenty of work." Rhoda's lips quivered a little as she thought of her day-dreams as she came home--how if she got plenty of work they might take a little house and have a little garden of their own. But she went bravely on. "It would be foolish of me to think of leaving London, Aunt Mary. And of course you must go with Ned. Is he pleased about it? They must think a good deal of him to promote him like this."

"Yes, it is a promotion," said the mother eagerly. She was very fond of Rhoda, but her eldest boy was her heart's darling. "James said Mr. Howard spoke so highly of him. And James is very anxious I should go to Coombe.

His old housekeeper is leaving him, and he wants me. If only"--

But Rhoda again interrupted her. She knew perfectly well how reasonably and firmly the shrewd, hard-headed farmer had spoken that afternoon. He was both anxious and willing that his sister and her boys should make their home with him, but he did not want her. He considered her old enough to fight the battle of life for herself. And she was determined that her aunt should not guess how hard the parting would be to her.

"It is a delightful plan, Aunt Mary. You would not have come to London if Ned wasn't here. I know how you have hated it. And you must not trouble about me. There are heaps of places now where girls can live comfortably for very little. I will ask Miss Desborough to-morrow. And if I can pa.s.s the Post Office examination, I might get appointed to Plymouth. Aunt Mary, don't cry. I can't bear it."

"You don't feel it as I shall," sobbed Mrs. M'Alister, without looking up.

"But I couldn't let Ned go to Plymouth alone, Rhoda. I couldn't be parted from him."

"Of course not," Rhoda answered cheerily. She was glad her aunt did not look up, for she knew her face had turned very white, and slow hot tears had forced themselves into her eyes. But her voice was cheery. "And you will be quite close to him at Coombe."

"He will be able to live with us. There is a station quite close," said Mrs. M'Alister, drying her tears. Now that Rhoda seemed to bear the news so well, she was able to think of the bright side of things. "And you must spend a long month with us in the summer, Rhoda darling. James means to insist on that. He does mean to be kind, dear."

"I am sure he does. And when he hears about Miss Merivale he will make you see that it would be foolish of me to think of leaving London. But here comes the tea at last. I will run up and wash my hands first. Don't wait for me, Aunt Mary."

No one could have guessed, when Rhoda came down, with her hair freshly done, and a new pink ribbon round the neck of her brown dress, what bitter tears she had been shedding upstairs. And when Mr. Price came in, he was pleasantly surprised at the sensible view she took of things, and his invitation to her to spend the August holidays at Coombe was far heartier than Mrs. M'Alister had dared to hope for.

"And you will be able to run down to Leyton for a Sunday every now and then," he said, regarding her approvingly out of his hard grey eyes.

"Mary, here, seems to think you're a baby still, but I know better. Girls aren't what they used to be, Mary--silly creatures who couldn't look after themselves. They don't want to stay at home by the chimney corner all the time."

"I want to work," said Rhoda, speaking rather proudly. She could have added that she might have got work at Plymouth and come home every night, as Ned was going to do, but she knew that it would be no use to say it. He had plainly made up his mind that she must shift for herself. And the only excuse she could make for him was that he did not know how hard it was for her to be suddenly deprived of a home. Shabby and uncomfortable as their lodgings were, not even beautiful Woodcote could have been a dearer home.

And a deadly chill seized her heart as she thought of living alone or with strangers. Rhoda was a thorough woman in her need of a home to fill her life. She had never felt Rose's desire to be free from home ties; she could not have understood it.

"Rhoda means to ask Miss Desborough's advice, James," said Mrs. M'Alister, putting down her sewing. "She knows a great many girls who get their living in London and board out somewhere. I shan't feel happy till I see Rhoda comfortably settled."

"Oh, we'll manage that for her," returned the farmer briskly. "And now this Miss Merivale has taken her up she'll get plenty of work, never fear."

"How would it do for you to live with Miss Smythe?" suggested Mrs.

M'Alister, looking anxiously at Rhoda. "Now Miss Desborough is going away, she will want somebody, won't she?"

A smile broke over Rhoda's face. She had never spoken of Pauline's contemptuous rudeness to her aunt. She had felt too indifferent to her to be hurt by her behaviour; and since her visit to Leyton, the week before, she had a special reason for being amused at it. But this she had not mentioned.

"Miss Smythe would think me very bold if I suggested living with her, Aunt Mary," she said, in a voice that had a ripple of laughter in it. "But don't be anxious about me. I can stay here with Mrs. Ellis if I can't hear of anything I like better. But I will speak to Miss Desborough to-morrow."

As it happened, however, Rhoda did not see Clare next day. When she arrived at the flat, she found that Lady Desborough had reached town the day before, and had taken her daughter for a day's shopping with her, preparatory to their journey into Lincolnshire.

It was Rose who told Rhoda this. Mrs. Richards had gone out to buy some chops for dinner, and Rose opened the door. Rhoda thought her the prettiest creature she had ever seen in her life. She had a blue dress on and a white cooking ap.r.o.n, and her yellow hair was brushed loosely back from her face and fastened in a loose knot.

"Miss Desborough has left some letters for you to answer," she said to Rhoda pleasantly. "Can you do them at the side table? I am cooking in the sitting-room this morning. It was so hot in the kitchen. Miss Smythe will be in presently. She has a message for you from Clare."

It was rather difficult to work at the side table, which was small and decidedly rickety; but Rhoda made no objection. She found her eyes wandering now and then to Rose, who had gone back to her pastry, and was spending many puzzled glances on the cookery book that was propped open before her.

"I mean to write a cookery book one day," she exclaimed presently, in a tone of deep disgust. "And I mean to use simple language, and explain everything. I can't understand this book a bit."

Rhoda was on the point of offering her help, when the door was hastily opened and Pauline came in, with a bunch of daffodils in her hand. She raised her eyebrows at the sight of the pastry board.