There seemed to be little change in Rachel Ffrench's life and manner, however. She began to pay rather more strict attention to her social duties, and consequently went out oftener. This might possibly be attributed to the fact that remaining in-doors was somewhat dull. Haworth and Murdoch came no more, and after Saint Meran's departure a sort of silence seemed to fall upon the house. Ffrench himself felt it when he came in at night, and was naturally restless under it. Perhaps Miss Ffrench felt it, too, though she did not say so. One morning, Janey Briarley, sitting nursing the baby in the door-way of the cottage, glanced upward from her somewhat arduous task to find a tall and graceful figure standing before her in the sun. She had been too busily engaged to hear footsteps, and there had been no sound of carriage-wheels, so the visitor had come upon her entirely unawares. It cannot be said she received her graciously. Her whilom admiration had been much tempered by sharp distrust very early in her acquaintance with its object. "Art tha coomin' in?" she asked unceremoniously. "Yes," said Miss Ffrench, "I am coming in." Janey got up and made room for her to pass, and when she had passed, gave her a chair, very much overweighted by the baby as she did so. "Does tha want to see mother?" "If your mother is busy, you will serve every purpose. The housekeeper told me that Mrs. Dixon was ill, and as I was passing I thought I would come in." Janey's utter disbelief in this explanation was a sentiment not easily concealed, even by an adept in controlling facial expression, and she was not an adept. But Miss Ffrench was not at all embarrassed by any demonstration of a lack of faith which she might have perceived. When Janey resumed her seat, she broke the silence by an entirely unexpected observation. She touched the baby delicately with the point of her parasol--very delicately indeed. "I suppose," she remarked, "that this is an extremely handsome child." This with the air of one inquiring for information. "Nay, he is na," retorted Janey unrelentingly. "He's good enow, but he nivver wur hurt wi' good looks. None on 'em wur, an' he's fou'est o' th' lot. I should think tha could see that fur thysen." "Oh," replied Miss Ffrench, "then I suppose I am wrong. My idea was that at that age children all looked alike." "Loike him?" said Janey dryly. "Did tha think as tha did?" As the young Briarley in question was of a stolid and unornamental type, uncertain of feature and noticeable chiefly for a large and unusually bald head of extraordinary phrenological development, this gave the matter an entirely novel aspect. "Perhaps," said Miss Ffrench, "I scarcely regarded it from that point of view." Then she changed the subject. "How is Mrs. Dixon?" she inquired. "She's neyther better nor worse," was the answer, "an' a mort o' trouble." "That is unfortunate. Who cares for her?" "Mother. She's th' on'y one as can do owt wi' her."