’She has certainly had her share of trouble.  How long ago did this happen to your sister?’

’It must be five years since Robert and Nancy were married.  Phoebe was never the same woman since then, though her health did not fail for a year or more afterwards; Mr. Hamilton always says she has had a good riddance of Robert.  He never thought much of him, and he has told me that it is far better that Phoebe never had a chance of marrying him, for she would have been a sad burden to any man; and she would not have had you to nurse her.’  And Miss Locke’s careworn face brightened.  ’That is just what I tell myself, when I am out of heart about her; the Lord knew Robert would have been a cruel husband to her,—­for he is not too kind to Nancy,—­and so He kept Phoebe away from him.  Phoebe is not one to bear unkindness,—­it just maddens her,—­and we have all spoilt her.’

’Just so, and she knows her power over you.  I am afraid she gives you a great deal to bear, Miss Locke.’

‘I never mind it from her,’ she answered simply.  ’She is all I have in the world except Kitty, and I am thinking what I can do for her from morning to night; that is the best and the worst of my work, one need never stop thinking for it.  Sometimes, when I am tired, or things have gone wrong with my customers, or I am a bit behindhand with the rent, I wish I could talk it over with her; it would ease me somehow; but I never do give way to the feeling, for it would only fret and worry her.’

‘You are wrong,’ I returned warmly.  ’Mr. Hamilton would tell you so if you asked him.  Any worry, any outside trouble, would be better for Phoebe than this unhealthy feeding on herself.  Take my advice, Miss Locke, talk about yourself and your own troubles.  Phoebe is fond of you, it will rouse her to enter more into your life.’

Miss Locke shook her head, and the tears came into her mild hazel eyes.

‘There is One who knows it all.  I’ll not be troubling my poor Phoebe,’ she said, and her hands trembled a little.  Kitty came in at this moment and said her aunt Phoebe wanted her, so we were obliged to break off the conversation.

I thought about it all rather sadly as I sat by my solitary fire that evening with Tinker’s head on my lap.  He had taken to me, and I always found him waiting for my return; but it was less of Phoebe than of Susan I was thinking.  I was so absorbed in my reflections that Uncle Max’s voice outside quite startled me.

‘May I come in, Ursula?’ he said, thrusting in his head.  ’I have been at the choir-practice, so I thought I would call as I passed.’

Of course I gave him a warm welcome, and he drew his chair to the opposite side of the fire, and declared he felt very comfortable:  then he asked me why I was looking grave, and if I were tired of my solitude.  I disclaimed this indignantly, and gave him a sketch of my day’s work, ending with my talk to Susan Locke.