Jane did speak at length.  Miss Lant had called to see her in Hanover Street; seated quietly in her own parlour, with Michael Snowdon to approve—­with him she had already discussed the matter—­Jane ventured softly to compare the present state of things and that of former winters, as described to her by various people.

‘Wasn’t it rather a pity,’ she suggested, ’that the old people were sent away?’

‘You think so?’ returned Miss Lant, with the air of one to whom a novel thought is presented.  ‘You really think so, Miss Snowdon?’

‘They got on so well with everybody,’ Jane continued.  ’And don’t you think it’s better, Miss Lant, for everybody to feel satisfied?’

’But really, Mr. Batterby used to speak so very harshly.  He destroyed their self-respect.’

‘I don’t think they minded it,’ said Jane, with simple good faith.  ’And I’m always hearing them wish he was back, instead of the new managers.’

‘I think we shall have to consider this,’ remarked the lady, thoughtfully.

Considered it was, and with the result that the Batterbys before long found themselves in their old position, uproariously welcomed by Shooter’s Gardens.  In a few weeks the soup was once more concocted of familiar ingredients, and customers, as often as they grumbled, had the pleasure of being rebuked in their native tongue.

It was with anything but a cheerful heart that Jane went through this initiation into the philanthropic life.  Her brief period of joy and confidence was followed by a return of anxiety, which no resolve could suppress.  It was not only that the ideals to which she strove to form herself made no genuine appeal to her nature; the imperative hunger of her heart remained unsatisfied.  At first, when the assurance received from Michael began to lose a little of its sustaining force, she could say to herself, ’Patience, patience; be faithful, be trustful, and your reward will soon come.’  Nor would patience have failed her had but the current of life flowed on in the old way.  It was the introduction of new and disturbing things that proved so great a test of fortitude.  Those two successive absences of Sidney on the appointed evening were strangely unlike him, but perhaps could be explained by the unsettlement of his removal; his manner when at length he did come proved that the change in himself was still proceeding.  Moreover, the change affected Michael, who manifested increase of mental trouble at the same time that he yielded more and more to physical infirmity.

The letter which Sidney wrote after receiving Joseph Snowdon’s confidential communications was despatched two days later.  He expressed himself in carefully chosen words, but the purport of the letter was to make known that he no longer thought of Jane save as a friend; that the change in her position had compelled him to take another view of his relations to her than that he had confided to Michael at Danbury.  Most fortunately—­he added—­no utterance of his feelings had ever escaped him to Jane herself, and henceforth he should be still more careful to avoid any suggestion of more than brotherly interest.  In very deed nothing was altered; he was still her steadfast friend, and would always aid her to his utmost in the work of her life.