"He is tall and fair, but his eyes are quick and restless, not like Cousin Thorold's. His are still and steadfast, but they break up sometimes into pools of laughter. I like him then, even when I know he is quietly laughing at me—Jim would never laugh at me, never! But he is magnetic and he pulls me after him sometimes against my will. He is very quick and enthusiastic, and lives his life breathlessly, and he would drag me after him anywhere and everywhere if I married him; and mind and body are so strong, I cannot keep pace with him! I should never have repose, and though I love doing and seeing everything, I like when I have done it all to sit down and rest and think about it. Jim never rests; he can think as he's rushing on. But oh, he is so full of life, that he keeps me full too!" "Has he any parents living?" "Yes, in Northumberland. That is the far north of England, is it not?" A grave look came into her eyes, then she shook her head in a pretty careless way. "We have discussed him enough. He is in England, so you may meet him and see what he is like. Now tell me, shall we go over to-morrow to the Vicarage and open its cupboards, and get out all the curtains, and see how pretty we can make it?" "Yes, I think we can; we will go in the morning. In the afternoon I want to take you to see my blind friend, Sir Gilbert Winnington." "I am going to have a charming time here," said Gentian, smiling up at her hostess like a pleased child. "I feel it was a happy day when we made each other's acquaintance." "Indeed it was," responded Mrs. Wharnecliffe warmly. And when Gentian had gone to bed, she said to her husband: "I feel increasing responsibility over this child. She is the last sort of girl to be out in the world alone, and I don't think Miss Ward is strong enough in character to deal with her. I wish she would give up this motor business." "Perhaps it will give her up," responded her husband cheerfully. Mrs. Wharnecliffe shook her head doubtfully. CHAPTER IV JIM PAGET THE next morning Mrs. Wharnecliffe took Gentian over to St. Anselm's Vicarage. Thorold's old housekeeper was already there. They spent a very happy two hours in the house, for Mrs. Wharnecliffe was never happier than when arranging and beautifying rooms; and Gentian was like a joyous child, dancing in and out, and singing gay little Italian songs under her breath. By the time they were obliged to return home, chintz curtains were hanging in the windows, pretty rugs were underfoot upon the stained floors, and the whole house wore a habitable aspect. As they were walking away from the door, Thorold passed down the road. Mrs. Wharnecliffe called to him. "I hope everything is all right?" he asked. "Yes," responded Gentian, turning towards him her glowing radiant face. "It's the dearest little house in the world, and I've discovered that there are swallows building under the eaves. Does not that bring us luck? I am longing for Waddy to see it."