On the Sunday she was allowed to see Myra Brinton for the first time. Perhaps the events of the week had done more for Myra than for anyone else; she had been so horrified to discover what mischief her sentimental fancy for Ralph, her jealousy of Evereld and her quarrel with Ivy had wrought, that she had taken herself thoroughly in hand, and had learnt a lesson she would never forget. As for the baby, it played no small part in her education, and Bridget was always delighted that she should come in and make much of it. “I don’t know how to thank you enough,” said Evereld looking up at her gratefully. “They have all told me how good and helpful you were last Monday, when no one had time to think much of Baby Dick.” “Is he to be called Dick?” said Myra willing to turn the conversation from herself. “Yes, after my brother who died. Have you seen Ivy yet?” “Oh, several times,” said Myra. “I wanted just to tell you that everything is quite right between us again. I was very wrong, Evereld, to tell you what I did at Mardentown. It was all a mistake and I little thought what it would lead to. If poor Ivy had not been in a hurry to be out of my way before I came back to the dressing-room, I do believe the accident would never have happened. My horrible gossip might have been the death of both of you. I can never forget that.” “Don’t let us ever talk of it again,” said Evereld. “We shall all three be closer friends for the rest of our lives just because this has happened. That’s the only thing that matters now. And Myra, I wanted to ask you to be Dick’s Godmother. You had all the trouble of him at first, and so he seems rightly to belong to you. Mr. Macneillie has promised to be one of the Godfathers.” This was the finishing touch to the reconciliation and a very happy thought on the part of the little mother. Nothing could have pleased Myra more, and she left Bath a much happier and a much better woman. Evereld made herself as happy as she could with her baby and with old Bridget as companions, but her convalescence was tedious, and she was unspeakably glad when at length the day arrived for her removal to the Hereford’s house in Lansdowne Crescent. The beautiful view of the Somersetshire hills and of the grey city in the valley below, which she gained from her window, the cheerful sense of family life going on all about her, the companionship of Bride O’Ryan, and the comfort of having Mrs. Hereford always at hand to advise her about Dick and to share all her anxieties, seemed exactly what she needed. Her voice recovered its tone, her cheeks regained their fresh bright colour, and she became once more just a girl again, ready to enjoy life in her own quiet fashion. “I could almost fancy we were back at school,” said Bride cheerfully.