Then these two girls became more confidential, and Joyce gave her cousin every particular respecting the work she had undertaken, the manner in which she had obtained the situation, and of the fact that Mrs. Caruth was sending her own maid to accompany her on her journey to Springfield Park. "It seems quite amusing to think that one who is travelling with such an object should be so attended, does it not?" asked Joyce. Adelaide looked thoughtful, then replied, "Mrs. Caruth must think a great deal about you. Does she understand what you are going to do?" "I am not sure, but I do know she is my friend. She was almost like a mother to me until I was about seventeen, and when I had none of my own. Then—" "Then what?" "Her son came home for a time, and she had him, and I became more of a companion to my father." "I believe I have seen both Mrs. Caruth and her son. Does she call him Alec?" "Always. He is about thirty-two now. You see I was only nine when he was twenty, and as the child of his old tutor, he made a pet and playfellow of me. It seems strange that we should both be grown-up people after a few years." "He is very fond of his mother, and she of him," said Adelaide. "Indeed, he seems a good, noble-minded man altogether. Augusta thought there was no one like him during the eight weeks we spent at Mentone." A statement which did not appear to give unqualified satisfaction to Joyce, for she paused a moment, then, in a constrained voice, though with an attempt at archness, she asked— "Did Major Caruth think there was no one like Augusta?" "He neither troubled himself about her nor any other girl. I mean so far as paying special attention went. He was everything that was kind and courteous, but the elder ladies and the children absorbed the larger share of his time—somewhat, I think, to the disgust of the grown-up girls. If hazarded a guess, it would be that he had no heart left to give, and that he was far too noble and true a man to pay unmeaning attentions, which could lead to nothing but regrets and pain for another. I suppose he has no sister, or he would be a model 'brother of girls.'" "No, but he is a brother of girls for all that. He would be to all such, if circumstances called for his help, what the son of a pure-minded, virtuous, Christian mother should be. I know him so well." Joyce's face was lighted up by a bright, glad look, born of precious memories, but it faded as she said, "I am not likely to meet Major Caruth again. I was Miss Mirlees, and a power at Welton, as the parson's daughter in a country parish always is, you know. Three days hence I shall be 'only a servant.'"