She smiled brightly as she kissed away Georgie to school in the morning, and the boy felt that there was good news in her look.

He came one day as the coachman was leading Georgie around the lawn on the grey pony.

Georgie at twelve years old looked at least as high as one of these; a farmhouse was to be avoided above all things.

She put on her bonnet, scarcely knowing what she did, and went out to walk in the lanes, where she was in the habit of going to meet Georgie on his return from school.