"Well, now, I tell you, I can't think what we did without you all the dull old winters," said Mrs Jones of the grocer's emporium one day, as she scribbled down the weekly order with the much-battered stump of a lead pencil. "You've been a regular godsend, cheering us up, and giving us something to think of, instead of moping along from September to June. I'm sure we've cause to be grateful for all you've done." Vanna flushed, surprised and a trifle overwhelmed by so gushing a compliment. "Really, Mrs Jones, I don't feel that I deserve any thanks. I have been so much occupied with Miss Miggs that I have had no time to spare. I can't think of anything I have done to help you." "Oh, miss!" protested Mrs Jones, in accents of strong reproach. "Oh, miss; _and three new hats since autumn_!" Blessed sense of humour! That reply was sufficient to brighten Vanna's whole day. It did more, for it served to nip in the bud that lassitude concerning the toilette, that feeling that "anything will do," which creeps over those who dwell in lonely places. Henceforth Vanna realised that to the natives of this little sea-bound village she stood as a type of the great world of fashion, and that it was a real pleasure in their quiet lives to behold her moving about in their midst in pretty, tasteful attire. The knowledge proved beneficial to her appearance, and to her spirits. The pony carriage proved of less use than had been hoped, as the invalid's nerves grew less and less able to face the precipitous road leading up to the house; but some time every day Vanna found time for a scamper on the back of her beloved Dinah, saddling her herself, rubbing her down, and giving her a feed of oats on her return. Miggles did not care for indoor pets, so that it was an extra pleasure to make friends with Dinah, to rub her soft nose, and bequeath odd gifts of sugar. Her informal riding-costume was composed of a dark green habit and a felt hat of the same shade, which, being somewhat battered out of the original shape, she had twisted into a Napoleonic tricorn, which proved surprisingly becoming on her small, daintily poised head. "I've never seen a riding-hat like that before. That's the very _latest_ from Paris, I suppose, miss?" said Mrs Jones of the emporium; and Vanna had not the heart to undeceive her. Once or twice a week, instead of mounting to the downs, Vanna would turn inland to pay a visit to Mrs Rendall. The old lady was not an interesting personality, but she was lonely, which fact made perhaps the strongest of all appeals to Vanna's sympathy at this period of her life.