"No, the Rector's wife."
Harebell's eyes shone with joy.
"It will be perfect!" she exclaimed. "And now those children will have to speak to me, and I shall have somebody to talk to. Shan't I do lessons with them in the afternoon?"
"You may have to go for music lessons in the afternoon, but that has still to be settled. I have another matter to speak to you about. Mr. Graham has written to me, and wants to come down to see you, as he is passing through this part of the country this week. I have asked him to lunch to-morrow."
"Oh, it's too much!" cried Harebell. "Why does it all come at once? And this morning when I got up, I thought you and me were going to live alone together for ever. Isn't it strange how sudden things alter! What a happy time I'm going to have!"
She could hardly finish her breakfast for excitement. She ran out into the garden afterwards and worked off her superfluous spirits by racing round and round the paths.
Then she went to find Andy, who was busy in his pantry.
"Of course," he said; "I knowed good times would come. They always does to all of us. The most dismal day in the year isn't more'n twelve hours long; you go to sleep and, like a Jack-in-the-box, a fresh day is on you, bringing you all sorts of surprises!"
"Do you know the Rectory children, Andy?"
"You've asked me that dozens o' times, and I tells you 'Yes' and 'No.' They be ordinary children, mischievous at times, and forgettin' their manners, but their mother be a fine woman. She has the ways of the quality, for she's one of 'em. Used to live at Cumberstone Hall, fifteen mile from here—her father were my father's squire—and I well remember our school treats at the Hall when Miss Mary used to come and join us—a pretty little maid in white frocks and golden curls."