"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.