“I really half envy you, Miss Melville,” said Mary.  “I wish I could do something for myself.  You cannot think how anxiously I watched and wondered how you and your sister got on, and how delighted I was when you got the situation with Mrs. Phillips.  Your cousin too—­it must have been a sad weight off his mind.  A generous man like him must have felt the terms on which he got the property very cruel.”

“Yes,” said Jane, “I know he felt it very much.  We have great cause to thank God that things have turned out so well as they have done.”

“Well, Miss Melville, do you know I feel quite ashamed to think of the amount of money which our family has cost Aunt Margaret; and after all she has spent on my education, and I really did try my best to learn too, I feel almost guilty in looking for a situation.  There are so many wanting employment, that it seems like taking bread out of their mouths; and here am I, a full-grown woman, dependent on other people for mine.  There are four girls of us, and only Grace at school now, but yet none of us are doing anything for ourselves.  I spoke to Aunt Margaret about taking a situation, but she said she must have me at Allendale for the winter, on account of Archie and Maggie.  After that is over, I may speak of it again.  You are going to Melbourne, where I have got a brother doing pretty well; but one does not like to be dependent even on a brother.  If you think there is any opening there for us, will you let us know through your cousin? we see him very often.”

“Then you stay at Allendale for all this winter?” said Jane.

“Yes, and it will be very pleasant.  I like living with Aunt Margaret so much, and John and I were always the two who drew together most of the family; and then Mr. Sinclair is the dearest old gentleman in the world.”

“My cousin seems to be a favourite of your aunt’s,” said Jane.

“I never saw aunt take to any one at once as she did to him.  What a pity your uncle did not take him home; it would have added very much to his happiness and to yours.”

It was not like the parting of strangers that took place between Jane Melville and Mary Forrester.

“Will you let me kiss you?” said Jane, timidly, as she said good-bye.  This was rather a remarkable proceeding on Jane’s part, for she was not addicted to the promiscuous osculation so common among young ladies, but she felt for Mary Forrester no common interest.

Mary frankly granted the little request, and they parted to meet again—­when, and where, and how?

The party then went to Cross Hall, which was unaltered since Jane had left it; and while Mrs. Phillips and the children were resting after their journey, Francis took Mr. Phillips and Jane to look at the cottages he had built, and she mounted her old horse to ride out to see the allotments, which, even in this short time, showed signs of improvement.  There were words of greeting to be said to everybody and to every