“As good as always. She wasn’t five when we had her first. Her father was our nearest neighbour; we were living up in the hills then, fifty miles from a town. She used to stay with us for days together while her father went off after cattle. And when he died we brought her home for good. I haven’t a girl of my own, but I’ve never known what it is to miss one. Rhoda’s no kith or kin to us, but she has been a daughter to me, all the same, and a sister to the boys. We’ve had a hard fight since we came home, for my brothers have been unfortunate lately, and are not able to help us as they wanted to; but Rhoda hasn’t lost heart for a moment.” Mrs. M’Alister had been drawn into making this long speech by the eager look of interest she saw in Miss Merivale’s face; but now she stopped short, her pale face flushing a little. She felt afraid lest Miss Merivale might think she was asking for help. “Then I suppose she had no relatives of her own?” asked Miss Merivale, after a pause, in which she had been struggling for her voice. “She had some on her mother’s side. I never heard their names. But her father seemed certain that they would be unkind to the child, and he was thankful when we promised to keep her. He was a queer, silent sort of man. We never knew much about him, except that he had lived in Adelaide. But he was mother and father both to Rhoda. He was just wrapped up in her. It was a pretty sight to see them together.” There were many questions Miss Merivale would have liked to ask, but she had not the courage to. She was afraid of betraying herself. She no longer felt any doubt about Rhoda’s parentage. James Sampson had not perished in the bush, but had hidden himself in that lonely spot up among the hills, where either no news of the will had reached him, or he had deliberately refrained from communicating with England. Perhaps he thought that his girl would be happier with the kind M’Alisters than with her rich English relatives. But the most probable supposition was that he had never heard of the will. Mrs. M’Alister had said that they were living fifty miles from a town. How easily it might have happened that the advertisements they put in the Melbourne papers had never been seen by him. As soon as she could she got away, after arranging that Rhoda should bring the programmes to Woodcote one day in the following week, so that she might talk over with her the details of some other work she wanted done. Miss Merivale marvelled at herself for the calmness with which she settled all this.