He opened another letter, read, re-read, and looked at Jean.
"The very thing! I have been wishing I could get you away. Here's an invitation in the nick of time."
"For me!" Jean did not know what it was to leave home alone.
"To Wufflestone. Jem's mother."
"Cousin Chrissie Trevelyan! But that is such a long way off, father. And I don't see how I can be spared."
"We'll manage the sparing. I think a change is desirable. You have not been quite the thing lately."
Jean looked up gratefully. That anybody should have detected the languor which she had resolutely concealed was astonishing.
"Oh, I'm all right," she said—an involuntary utterance.
"You will not be the worse for a break. She speaks of the middle of February—sorry her spare room is engaged till then. I shall like you to know Chrissie Trevelyan. She's a kind creature. You will be in good hands."
"I only just remember her."