"Yes, we came back just before Christmas. When my husband died, I felt I
must come home. My brothers offered to help me with the boys. Rhoda has
taken the youngest down to one of his uncles to-day. But it's only in
Essex; she will be back to-night."

She said the last words hurriedly, as if afraid of wearying her visitor.
She little knew how Miss Merivale was hanging on her words.

"Your niece must be a great comfort to you," Miss Merivale said, after a
moment's pause. "Has she always lived with you?"

"As good as always. She wasn't five when we had her first. Her father was
our nearest neighbour; we were living up in the hills then, fifty miles
from a town. She used to stay with us for days together while her father
went off after cattle. And when he died we brought her home for good. I
haven't a girl of my own, but I've never known what it is to miss one.
Rhoda's no kith or kin to us, but she has been a daughter to me, all the
same, and a sister to the boys. We've had a hard fight since we came home,
for my brothers have been unfortunate lately, and are not able to help us
as they wanted to; but Rhoda hasn't lost heart for a moment."

Mrs. M'Alister had been drawn into making this long speech by the eager
look of interest she saw in Miss Merivale's face; but now she stopped
short, her pale face flushing a little. She felt afraid lest Miss Merivale
might think she was asking for help.

"Then I suppose she had no relatives of her own?" asked Miss Merivale,
after a pause, in which she had been struggling for her voice.