"I don't know," said Jockie soberly. "I don't incline towards the strenuous disciplined life. I have often told you so. I want to enjoy everything as it comes. It always seems to me that in preference you cross the street to the shady side. Now I like to walk in the sun." "I want to keep my body in subjection," said Gavine, with earnest shining eyes, "so that it will not be a hindrance to me when I am working. I sometimes think I should like to join a sisterhood. I was very nearly doing it a year ago, and then I promised someone I would not." "Who?" Jockie asked bluntly. A soft pink colour stole into Gavine's cheeks. "Oh, it's only someone who has gone abroad." Jockie's eyes twinkled. "I'm waiting to be told his name." But Gavine kept her own counsel and would say no more. CHAPTER XI AUSTIN'S ENLIGHTENMENT CHRISTMAS came with its festivities; and though Thanning Dale was not a very gay neighbourhood, there was enough going on to keep everyone occupied. Sidney was freer now that her father was convalescent, and she and Jockie pressed Gavine into their service, for there were parish teas and entertainments and a Christmas tree for the children. And somehow or other, Austin was always with them. Sidney noticed that he did not mention Mrs. Norman's name, and there was something in his feverish gaiety and forced ring of cheerfulness, that made her wonder if anything had gone wrong in their friendship. She was too busy to seek for his confidence; and, indeed, there was little opportunity for quiet talk between them. Gavine and he were good friends, but nothing more. Jockie made fun of him, laughed at him, and contradicted him whenever she got a chance, but Austin held his ground with her, and Sidney listened to their gay talk and laughter with relief of mind. This was Austin in his wholesome boyish state again. What had occasioned the change? She was enlightened at last. Austin was seeing her home after the village children's prize-giving and treat. It was a windy night. "Take my arm," he insisted; "you are tired out with the romping. Are you my friend still, Sid?" "Is it my way to change?" Sidney said quietly. "Oh, no, but women are beyond me. And it's my fate to have my ideals shattered." "You'd better tell me," Sidney suggested. "I want to. But you're the only one on earth I'll speak to about it; for I know you won't crow, and say 'I told you so.' It's only—only I've had a nasty shock about that little woman. I really can't bring myself to tell you, but it's all up between us, and I'm going to clear out for a bit. The mother condescended to say that I could have a holiday, and I'm off to Cairo next week. I know a fellow going out, and I've fixed it up with him." "That is very wise of you," said Sidney, hardly knowing what to say.