"That sounds strange to you, dear, and perhaps a little hard, but all the same it is _true_. I do not minimise your disappointment, but for the time being it is inevitable, and nothing remains but to face the situation bravely. As the eldest daughter of the house more depends upon you than upon any of the rest, and your opportunities will be endless. You can be a great comfort to us, darling, or a great additional care. It all depends upon the spirit in which you start the new life--upon whether you look in or out--put yourself first, or think of others." Mrs Saxon paused again, and within Rowena's still form two contending forces fought for victory. While one sullen spirit held her dumb, the real self seemed to stand apart, reviewing her own conduct, and uttering words of exhortation and appeal: "How hateful of you never to say a word in reply! Poor mother! her voice trembled... It's hard on her, too. If you could just put your arms round her neck and kiss her, and promise to be good, it would comfort her ever so much. And you'd be happier yourself. It only makes you more miserable to sulk, and be unkind. Look up and smile, and promise to be nice." So urged the inner voice, but alas, the fleshy eyelids seemed heavy as lead, and the lips remained stiff and unmoveable. To all outward appearance there was no sign of softening in the fixed face. Mrs Saxon's heart sank heavily. Rowena's lack of response to her appeal was a bitter disappointment; but she realised that it was useless to prolong the interview. A few moments longer she waited, hoping against hope for a word in reply, then stifling a sigh, she rose from her seat. "Well--I must go back to father. Look after the fire, darling, if you are going to stay here. It is getting low, and you must not catch cold." She bent as she passed to kiss the unresponsive lips, and walked from the room carrying a heavy heart in her breast. "If she had only spoken! If she had even looked up and smiled!" Such was the wounded mother cry; and all the time Rowena's heart was speeding unspoken messages after her as she went. "Mother! I'm sorry. You are so sweet, and I am a wretch! I _will_ try! I'll try my best!" Alas! the ears of sense could not catch the message, and so the opportunity passed, and left both hearts aching and oppressed. CHAPTER SIX. "What's `rejuiced'?" queried Maud, squeezing herself into the central place on the big fender, as her brothers and sisters sat roasting chestnuts by the schoolroom fire one wet afternoon a few days later, and the question being received by a blank stare of bewilderment she repeated the word with intensified emphasis. "_Re-juiced_! _We're_ rejuiced! I heard Mary say so in the schoolroom. She said to nurse that she didn't know if the missis would be wanting to keep on two housemaids now she was re-juiced! Does it mean _poor_?"