"Well, old Jo ..." It seemed to her that Ellen's kiss was warmer than usual. Or was it that her own heart was so warm...? Ellen found her remarkably silent. She had expected an outpouring of Joanna's adventures, achievements and triumphs, combined with a desperate catechism as to just how much ruin had befallen Ansdore while she was away. Instead of which Joanna seemed for the first time in Ellen's experience, a little dreamy. She had but little to say to Rye's one porter, or to Peter Crouch, the groom. She climbed up on the front seat of the trap, and took the reins. "You're looking well," said Ellen--"I can see your change has done you good." "Reckon it has, my dear." "Were you comfortable at the hotel?" This, if anything, should have started Joanna off, but all she said was-- "It wasn't a bad place." "Well, if you don't want to talk about your own affairs," said Ellen to herself--"you can listen to mine, for a change. Joanna,"--she added aloud--"I came to meet you, because I've got something special to tell you." "What's that?" "Perhaps you can guess." Joanna dreamily shook her head. "Well, I'm thinking of getting married again." "Married!" "Yes--it's eighteen months since poor Arthur died," sighed the devoted widow, "and--perhaps you've noticed--Tip Ernley's been getting very fond of me." "Yes, I had noticed.... I was wondering why you didn't tell." "There was nothing to tell. He couldn't propose to me till he had something definite to do. Now he's just been offered the post of agent on the Duke of Wiltshire's estate--a perfectly splendid position. Of course, I told him all about my first marriage"--she glanced challengingly at her sister--"but he's a perfect dear, and he saw at once I'd been more sinned against than sinning. We're going to be married this summer." "I'm unaccountable glad." Ellen gave her a queer look. "You take it very calmly, Jo." "Well, I'd been expecting it all along." "You won't mind my going away and leaving you?" "Reckon you'll have to go where your husband goes." "What on earth's happened?" thought Ellen to herself--"She's positively meek." The next minute she knew. "Ellen," said Joanna, as they swung into the Straight Mile, "I've got a friend coming to spend the day on Monday--a Mr. Hill that I met in Marlingate." Sec.17 For the next few days Joanna was restless and nervous; she could not be busy with Ansdore, even after a fortnight's absence. The truth in her heart was that she found Ansdore rather flat. Wilson's pride in the growth of the young lambs, Broadhurst's anxiety about Spot's calving and his preoccupation with the Suffolk dray-horse Joanna was to buy at Ashford fair that year, all seemed irrelevant to the main purpose of life. The main stream of her life had suddenly been turned underground--it ran under Ansdore's wide innings--on Monday it would come again to the surface, and take her away from Ansdore.