Aunt Philippa’s letter was very long and rambling.  She began by expressing herself as deeply shocked and grieved at Jocelyn’s behaviour, which was both dishonourable and unlady-like, and had given her father great pain.  ‘Dear old dad!  I don’t believe it,’ observed Jill, pursing her lips at this.

Aunt Philippa regretted that she could no longer trust her young daughter,—­she was sure Sara would never have behaved so at her age,—­and she felt much wounded by Jocelyn’s defiant action.  At the same time, she was equally deceived in Fraeulein Hennig, she was certainly more to blame than Jocelyn.  Mr. Cunliffe had told her things that greatly surprised her.  Uncle Brian was very angry, and insisted that she should be dismissed.  Under these distressing circumstances, and as it would not be safe for Jocelyn to come back to Hyde Park Gate until the rooms had been properly disinfected, she must beg me as a favour to herself and Uncle Brian to keep Jocelyn with me until they went to Hastings.  Mr. Cunliffe knew of a finishing governess, a Miss Gillespie, who was most highly recommended as a well-principled and thoroughly cultured person, only she would not be at liberty for three or four weeks.  As I reached this point of Aunt Philippa’s letter, I was obliged to lay it down to prevent myself from being strangled.

’Well, Jill, there is no need to hug me to death:  it is Uncle Max that you have to thank, and not me.’

’Yes, but you see it would never do to hug him, for he is not a bit my uncle, so I am doing it by deputy,’ observed Jill recklessly.  ’Oh, Ursula, what a darling you are! and what a dear fellow he is!  To think of my staying here three or four weeks!  You will let me help you nurse people, won’t you?’ very coaxingly.

’We will see about that presently; but, Jill, you have never opened your mother’s letter.  Now, as it is perfectly impossible that you can sleep on the floor for weeks, and as I do not intend to keep such a chatterbox in my room, I am going to see what Mrs. Barton advises.’  And leaving Jill to digest Aunt Philippa’s scolding as well as she could, I went in search of the little widow.

I found, to my relief, that there was another room in the cottage, though it could not boast of much furniture beyond a bed and wash-stand:  so, after a little consideration, I started off to the vicarage to hold a consultation with Mrs. Drabble.

The upshot of our talk was so satisfactory, and Mrs. Barton and Nathaniel worked so well in my service, that when bedtime came Jill found herself the possessor of quite a snug room.  There were curtains up at the window, and strips of carpet on the floor.  A dressing-table had been improvised out of a deal packing-case, and covered with clean dimity.  Jill’s travelling-box stood in one corner, and on the wall there was a row of neat pegs for Jill’s dresses.  Jill exclaimed at the clean trim look of the room, but I am sure she regretted her bed on the floor.  She came down presently in her scarlet dressing-gown to give me a final hug and reiterate her petition for work.