After a time, it became Missy's business to thwart her in obtaining interviews with her mother, and to have always a servant in the room. Before a servant, Miss Varian would not talk on family matters, even when she was very bitter, and Goneril had a comfortable corner of the room where she was not loth to do her sewing, and where she saved Mrs. Varian many a sharp stab. The children, too, came often to the house, almost as often as in the summer time, and they and their nurse made a wall of defense as well. After all, the winter wore away not unpeacefully to the Varian household, and all the desponding anticipations seemed to have been unwarranted. The children went and came; Jay's warm little hand was often in Missy's when she walked and rode; she had much occupation in the house, not as many interests outside. Time seemed to be healing the wound made by her brother's departure; she had read systematically, she was in fine health, the winter had been steadily cold and bracing. Yes, it had been a quiet, peaceful time to them all since Christmas. She blushed when she remembered how persistently she had prophesied evil, refusing to be comforted. "I must be very commonplace," she thought. "I am not even capable of suffering consistently." On the whole, however, it was a relief to be contented and comfortable, and she did not reject it exactly, though she took it under protest, and with a certain shame. She had, too, got over the violence of her feelings in the matter of her neighbor. She remembered her keen emotions with mortification. A good many things had contributed to this, principally the fact that St. John's going had eclipsed all other events, and that, in that real sorrow, the trifling sting was forgotten. Besides, the gentleman himself had had the kindness to keep entirely at home.