It wasn’t right of Alce to have treated her so—­showed an unforgiving nature—­if only the real story could be known, most likely folks would see....  There was also a mild scandal at his treatment of Joanna.  “Well, even if he loved her all the time when he was married to her sister, he needn’t have been so brazen about it....  Always cared for Joanna more’n he ought and showed it more’n he ought.”

Joanna was not worried by these remarks—­she brushed them aside.  Her character was gossip-proof, whereas Ellen’s was not, therefore it was best that the stones should be thrown at her rather than at her sister.  She at once went practically to work with Donkey Street.  She did not wish to keep it—­it was too remote from Ansdore to be easily workable, and she was content with her own thriving estate.  She sold Donkey Street with all its stock, and decided to lay out the money in improvements of her land.  She would drain the waterlogged innings by the Kent Ditch, she would buy a steam plough and make the neighbourhood sit up—­she would start cattle-breeding.  She had no qualms in thus spending the money on the farm, instead of on Ellen.  Her sister rather plaintively pointed out that the invested capital would have brought her in a comfortable small income—­“and then I needn’t be such a burden to you, Joanna, dear.”

“You ain’t a burden to me,” said Joanna.

She could not bear to think of Ellen’s becoming independent and leaving her.  But Ellen was far better contented with her life at home than she wisely let it appear.  Ansdore was a manor now—­the largest estate not only in Brodnyx and Pedlinge, but on Walland Marsh; indeed the whole of the Three Marshes had little to beat it with.  Moreover, Ellen was beginning to get her own way in the house—­her bedroom was no longer a compulsory bower of roses, but softly cream-coloured and purple-hung.  She had persuaded Joanna to have a bathroom fitted up, with hot and cold water and other glories, and though she had been unable to induce her to banish her father’s Bible and the stuffed owls from the parlour, she had been allowed to supplement—­and practically annihilate—­them with the notorious black cushions from Donkey Street.  Joanna was a little proud to have these famous decorations on the premises, to be indoors what her yellow waggons were outdoors, symbols of daring and progress.

On the whole, this substantial house, with its wide lands, respectable furniture and swarming servants, was one to be proud of.  Ellen’s position as Squire Joanna Godden’s sister was much better than if she were living by herself in some small place on a small income.  Her brief adventure into what she thought was a life of fashionable gaiety had discouraged and disillusioned her—­she was slowly slipping back into the conventions of her class and surroundings.  Ansdore was no longer either a prison or a refuge, it was beginning to be a home—­not permanent, of course, for she was now a free woman and would marry again, but a good home to rest in and re-establish herself.