She loathed the time she spent there, and now the one thought in her breast was the feeling that her emancipation was near, and that very soon she would be on her way to gay Paris to join Mabel Lushington. Yes, Annie had achieved much, if those actions of hers could be spoken of in such a light; she had won that which she desired. Priscilla remained at school. Mabel had left Lyttelton School, and she (Annie) was to join her friend on the Continent. Still, of course, there was a small thing to be done. Uncle Maurice must produce the needful. Annie could not travel to Paris without money, and Uncle Maurice must supply it. She did not anticipate much difficulty in getting the necessary sum from her uncle. Her dress was, of course, very unsuitable for the time of triumph she hoped to have in the gay capital and during her time abroad with Lady Lushington and Mabel. But nevertheless, she was not going to fret about these things in advance, and perhaps Uncle Maurice would be good for more than the money for her journey. She was seated now in a high gig, her uncle himself driving her. He had come to meet her at the nearest railway station ten miles away, and as the old horse jogged along and the old gig bumped over the uneven road Annie congratulated herself again and again on having such a short time to spend at home. Mr Brooke was an old clergyman approaching seventy years of age. He had lived in this one parish for over forty years; he loved every stone on the road, every light on the hills, every bush that grew, every plant that flowered; and as to the inhabitants of the little parish of Rashleigh, they were to old Maurice Brooke as his own children. He was pleased to see Annie, and showed it now by smiling at her from time to time and doing his best to make her comfortable. "Is the rug tucked tightly round you, Annie?" he said. "You will feel the fresh air a bit after your time down south. It's fine air we have in these ports--none finer in the land--but it's apt to be a little fresh when you come new upon it. And how are you, my dear girl? I've been looking, forward to your holidays. There's a great deal for you to do, as usual." "Oh uncle!" said Annie, "but you know I don't like doing things." "Eh, my love?" said the old clergyman. "But we have to do them, all the same, when they come to us in the guise of duty." "That is what I hate," said Annie, speaking crossly. "Don't let's worry about them to-night, Uncle Maurice; I have had a long journey, and am tired." "Poor bit thing!" said the old man. He stopped for a minute to pull the rag up higher round Annie's knees. "Mrs Shelf is so pleased at your coming back, Annie. She looks to you to help her with the preserving. She is not as young as she was, and her rheumatism is worse." "Oh, I hate rheumatic old folks!" thought Annie, but she did not say the words aloud.