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."