I was rather provoked to find Mr. Tudor at the station the next morning.  I suppose my steady look abashed him, for he muttered something about Smith’s bookstall, as though I should be deceived by such a flimsy excuse.  After all, Mr. Tudor was not better than other young men; in spite of Jill’s praises, he was capable of this mild subterfuge to get his own way.

Jill was so honestly and childishly pleased to see him that I ought to have been disarmed.  She went off with him to the bookstall, while I looked after her luggage, and they stood there chattering and laughing until I joined them, and then Mr. Tudor grew suddenly quiet.

As the train came up, I heard him ask Jill how long they were to stay at Hastings, and if they would be at Hyde Park Gate before Easter.

‘I shall be up in town then,’ he remarked carelessly, ’to see some of my people.’

‘Oh yes, and you must come and see us,’ she returned cheerfully.  ‘Good-bye, Mr. Tudor.  I am so sorry to leave Heathfield.’

But, after all, Jill’s last look was for me:  as she leaned out of the carriage, waving her hand, she did not even glance at the young man who was standing silent and gloomy beside me.  I felt rather sorry for the poor boy, as he turned away quite sadly.

‘I must go down to the schools:  good-bye, Miss Garston,’ he said hurriedly.  One would have thought he had to make up for lost time, as he strode through the station and up the long road.  Had Jill really taken his fancy, I wondered? had her big eyes and quaint speeches bewitched him?  Mr. Tudor was a gentleman, and we all liked him; but what would Uncle Brian and Aunt Philippa say if a needy, good-looking young curate were suddenly to present himself as a lover for their daughter Jocelyn?  Why, Jill would be rich some day,—­poor Ralph was dead, and she and Sara would be co-heiresses.  Her parents would expect her to make a grand match.

I shook my head gravely over poor Lawrence’s prospects as I took my way slowly up the hill.  I was rather glad when his broad shoulders were out of sight; I should be sorry if any disappointment were to cloud his cheery nature.

I missed Jill a great deal at first, but in my heart I was not sorry to get rid of the responsibility; a lively girl of sixteen, with strong individuality and marked precocity, is likely to be a formidable charge; but Mrs. Barton lamented her absence in no measured terms.

‘It seems so dull without Miss Jocelyn,’ she said, the first evening.  ’She was such a lively young lady, and made us all cheerful.  Why, she would run in and out the kitchen a dozen times a day, to feed the chickens, or pet the cat, or watch me knead the bread.  She and Nathaniel got on famously together, and often I have found her helping him with the books, and laughing so merrily when he made a mistake.  I used to think Nathaniel did it on purpose sometimes, just for the fun of it.’

Yes, we all missed Jill, and I for one loved the girl dearly.  It made me quite happy one day when she wrote a long letter, telling me that she was delighted with her new governess.