"That she could soon learn. May I write and suggest it to her?"
"Certainly, and let me know if she would like such a job."
Then Mrs. Fergusson smiled.
"When one chick leaves the shelter of your wing, do you look about for another? Your own small people do not seem enough for your energy."
"Oh, they are, more than enough, but Louise was brought to me. I could not help trying to help her. She seemed so solitary and forlorn away there in the wilds. Even I, in this cheerful house, feel a little bit down with this constant and ceaseless rain. Does it rain all the winter here?"
"Oh no, we have lovely spells. Wait till the snow covers the hills, and we get a rosy sunset! And a cold, bright frosty day with low sunshine lying across the Fells, and the beautiful colouring of the lake, is too exquisite for words! I am never lonely in winter. I have my needlework and books, and sit looking out upon the lake till the moon rises, and then sit on watching that till bedtime."
"Yes, I can fancy you doing it. I am inclined to waste a lot of time gazing out of these windows—so I expect I shall enjoy the winters here."
"You will have your husband home soon?"
"Not till Christmas."
Anstice's tone was a little constrained. She changed the topic, and they plunged into a discussion over a book which had been lent to Anstice by Mrs. Fergusson. It was on "The Coming Race." Mrs. Fergusson was an optimist.