Once behind the closed door she put her arms around the girl and kissed her. Then, holding her at arm's length, scrutinised her face with searching eyes. “No,” she said again with a little sigh of relief, “you have not changed. You are the same dear, wise girl I learned to love in Winnipeg.” “Oh, I am glad you think I am not changed, Mrs. Gwynne,” said Jane, with a glow of light in her dark blue eyes. “I do not like people to change and I would hate to have you think me changed. I know,” she added shyly, “I feel just the same toward you and the others here. But oh, how lovely they are, both Kathleen and Nora.” “They are good girls,” said Mrs. Gwynne quietly, “and they have proved good girls to me.” “I know, I know,” said Jane, with impulsive fervour, “and through those winters and all. Oh, they were so splendid.” “Yes,” said the mother, “they never failed, and Larry too.” “Yes, indeed,” cried Jane with increasing ardour, her eyes shining, “with his teaching,--going there through the awful cold,--lighting the school fires,--and the way he stuck to his college work. Nora's letters told me all about it. How splendid that was! And you know, Mrs. Gwynne, in the 'Varsity he did so well. I mean besides his standing in the class lists, in the Societies and in all the college life. He was really awfully popular,” added Jane with something of a sigh. “You must tell me, dear, sometime all about it. But now you must be weary and hungry. Come away out if you are ready, and I hope you will feel as if you were just one of ourselves.” “Do you know, that is just the way I feel, Mrs. Gwynne,” said Jane, putting the final touch to her toilet. “I seem to know the house, and everything and everybody about it. Nora is such a splendid correspondent, you see.” “Well, dear child, we hope the days you spend here will always be a very bright spot in your life,” said Mrs. Gwynne as they entered the living room. The next few days saw the beginning of the realisation of that hope, for of all the bright spots in Jane's life none shone with a brighter and more certain lustre than the days of her visit to Lakeside Farm. CHAPTER XVI HOSPITALITY WITHOUT GRUDGING By arrangement made the previous evening Jane was awake before the family was astir and in Nora's hands preparing for a morning ride with Larry, who was to give her her first lesson in equitation. “Your habit will be too big for me, Nora, I am afraid,” she said. “Habit!” cried Nora. “My pants, you mean. You can pull them up, you know. There they are.” “Pants!” gasped Jane. “Pants! Nora, pants! Do you mean to say you wear these things where all the men will see you?” Even in the seclusion of her bedroom Jane's face at the thought went a fiery red. Nora laughed at her scornfully. “Oh, but I can't possibly go out in these before Larry. I won't ride at all. Haven't you a skirt, a regular riding habit?” But Nora derided her scruples. “Why, Jane, we all wear them here.” “Does Kathleen?”