"But—" and Mildred hesitated; "I think it should be understood that I wouldn't on any account do anything to harm the Miss Cozens. I could not do it! They have been so long here, and I'm only a new-comer. I don't mean to make dresses for any of their old customers."
"Poor little women! I am told that they turn out the most wonderful sacks in the way of gowns! Of course I had no idea of that when I asked them to make my dress. They don't even know enough to be willing to improve." Miss Gilbert laughed and then she grow grave. "But you are right, Miss Pattison; quite right. My brother would say so. It is nice and good of you to think of them before yourself. Only people can't possibly send their better dresses to people who simply spoil the material. If they could turn out a dress looking respectable—but I'm told that they can't. The dresses that you will have to make will be those which otherwise would have been made in town. Don't you see?"
Mildred knew that it might be so, but she also knew that the sisters would not see it to be so, and in her kind-heartedness she felt a touch of pitying soreness for the pair who had always counted themselves such an important part of Old Maxham.
Jack Groates had begun to hobble about on crutches before the Vicar might come downstairs: and by the time that the Vicar could get out of doors, Jack had cast aside his crutches and had taken to a stick. He would soon be as "right as a trivet," the doctor said. The Vicar, having less strength of constitution, was longer in climbing the hill, and his arm was still good for little.
But the Vicar looked as joyous as a man could well look, while Jack Groates had a depressed aspect. An unaccountable cloud had arisen between himself and Jessie—unaccountable except to Jessie herself, and no doubt to Miss Sophy Coxen. It was a complete mystery to Jack's mother. He had never yet told her, or allowed Mimy to tell her, of the gossip which had reached his ears.
Mrs. Groates was not a person who would lend herself to the hearing of gossip, and people were rather careful what they ventured to say to her concerning Jack. She was apt to fire up, like a cat in defence of its kittens, if anything adverse were spoken as to any of her children—Jack above all. And though there was nothing exactly adverse to Jack in this particular tale, it was quite possible that her ire might be aroused at the very idea of any girl rejecting Jack, more especially before he had come forward with an offer.
Jessie seldom entered Groates' Store now to see Mrs. Groates, and when she did appear, her manner was constrained. She was by no means her old blithe little self; for the alteration in the condition of affairs was quite as much of a grief to her as to Jack.
She had, however, reluctantly made up her mind that Jack could, after all, have meant little, or he would not so soon have believed Miss Sophy's gossip. He too had grown cold and constrained; and she did not know how entirely this was caused by her own changed manner to him.
He said nothing, even to his mother; and Mrs. Groates would not try to force his confidence.
"If anything is wrong, it may come right again, if nobody meddles," she considered. "I don't hold with meddling in other folks' affairs in a hurry. Maybe they have had a bit of a quarrel, and maybe they'll make it up again. I'll wait and see."