As I crossed the threshold of Hillstowe Vicarage, I felt that I had reached another of my six milestones. CHAPTER III. IT was a kind but careworn face which looked down upon me as I alighted from the vehicle that brought me from Hillstowe Station. The trap was a borrowed one, for the vicar kept none. But his parishioners were very neighbourly, and were always ready to place a conveyance of some kind at his disposal, without fee or reward. The kind motherly face was that of Mrs. Barr, and it was very sweet to a weary girl amongst strangers and far from all her old surroundings, to see those gentle eyes shining upon her. I shall never forget what I felt when she bade me welcome, not only with words but in sweeter ways still. She clasped my hand, outstretched to meet hers, and then putting her left arm round me, she drew me towards her and kissed me more than once. No salute, no just touching of my cheek, but warm, repeated motherly kisses fell on my quivering lips, whilst the gentle pressure of that kind arm seemed to say that I was no longer without shield or shelter on the rugged path of life. My arms went up and round her neck. I could not help it. I returned those kind kisses with interest, and despite every effort at self-control, I wept on her shoulder, as I had never wept since I closed my father's eyes in death. Mrs. Barr gave quick directions about the placing of my luggage; then drew me into a room which I saw must be the vicar's study. "Sit here for a moment, my dear," she said, drawing me to a broad window seat and taking her place by my side, while still holding me in that motherly clasp. "Tears are blessed things sometimes, and knowing what I do of your late trials, I am glad for you that you can weep freely. But we shall try and help you to dry your tears. I hope you will be happy with us, and find in your daily occupations one remedy for your trouble." I tried to tell her that I was not broken down by the memory of past trouble, but by the kindness of her welcome. I told her so, and she smiled at my words, gave me another little hug, and left me to recover myself. Soon she returned and led me to my room. It was simply furnished, but there was nothing lacking; and in position, it was one of pleasantest in the vicarage. My possessions were neatly arranged for unpacking; straps were loosed and little helps rendered which well-taught servants see to when a guest arrives. I knew afterwards that Mrs. Barr's hands had been busy on my behalf. On going down, I found tea ready and saw the young people, and Mr. Barr, who passed my future pupils in array before me.