that she had grown unusually silent and her great violet eyes were
unceasingly opened wide to take in the growing wonders of her situation.
Mrs. Goddard was still dressed in black, as when John Short had seen her
five months earlier. There was something a little peculiar in her
mourning, though Mrs. Ambrose would have found it hard to define the
peculiarity. Some people would have said that if she was really a widow
her gown fitted a little too well, her bonnet was a little too small, her
veil a little too short. Mrs. Ambrose supposed that those points were
suggested by the latest fashions in London and summed up the difficulty
by surmising that Mrs. Goddard had foreign blood.

"I should have called before," said the latter, deeply impressed by the
severe appearance of the vicar's wife, "but I have been so busy putting
my things into the cottage--"

"Pray don't think of it," answered Mrs. Ambrose. Then she added after a
pause, "I am very glad to see you." She appeared to have been weighing in
her conscience the question whether she could truthfully say so or not.
But Mrs. Goddard was grateful for the smallest advances.

"Thank you," she said, "you are so very kind. Will you tell Mr. Ambrose
how thankful I am for his kind assistance? Yes, Nellie and I have had
hard work in moving, have not we, dear?" She drew the beautiful child
close to her and gazed lovingly into her eyes. But Nellie was shy; she
hid her face on her mother's shoulder, and then looked doubtfully at Mrs.
Ambrose, and then hid herself again.

"How old is your little girl?" asked Mrs. Ambrose more kindly. She was
fond of children, and actually pitied any child whose mother perhaps had
foreign blood.