Louise felt as if she were in a dream. The dainty lunch, the little girls' chatter at it, and Anstice's happy charm in making all feel pleased with themselves, made her long to stay in such an atmosphere for ever. When the meal was over, Anstice took her to her private sitting-room. It had been a very dull apartment before Anstice had taken it in hand. Now it was perfectly charming, with its fresh chintzes and soft cream-papered walls. Flowers and potpourri pots and some delicate old china adorned the mantelshelf, and the top of a low book-case in a recess by the fireplace. A work-table and writing-desk showed that the room was for use as well as for rest. A couch was drawn up under one window, two easy chairs were in the other, and Anstice, now gently putting Louise in the most comfortable chair, seated herself opposite her. From the open window in front of them was wafted in the scent of the new-mown hay in the park, whilst the children's happy voices, as they played about in it, brought a smile to Anstice's face. Louise's lips quivered, then suddenly she lowered her head, and began to sob. "I wish I was a child again. I wish I had a mother living. I am so utterly alone." "I suppose your uncle is wrapped up in his books?" asked Anstice gently. "But has he no visitors? My experience of country vicarages is that there are always people coming and going." "We never have any visitors. Our church and parish seem so far away from any others that we are completely forgotten and ignored."