The two years have been quiet, uneventful ones enough to the inhabitants of Edendale. The most exciting thing that has taken place, perhaps, being the sudden and unexpected death, while in Africa somewhere, of Sir Charles Ferrars of Ferrars Court. But as he had never lived at the Court for long together, and latterly not at all, his death was not an event to stir the sympathies of the surrounding neighbourhood greatly. Of course every one said, "How very sad—so sudden, you know!" and then they began to speculate as to what the heir would be like, and whether he would take possession soon, &c. &c. But in a few days the whole affair was forgotten; and as no heir arrived on the scene to satisfy their curiosity, they soon forgot that there was one to speculate about.
Dr. John Sinclair is constantly to be seen at the Rookery; indeed, he has fallen into the habit of going there, at one hour or another, almost every day.
With the first really hot weather of the year before, Daisy's health had flagged rather alarmingly, and the young doctor began to fear that her illness of the previous spring had left a permanent mark upon her. Thus had he become a constant visitor in order to watch the child closely.
At the present time Daisy is, for her, in comparatively robust health, but every one knows how difficult it is to get out of any habit once taken to, whether it be good or bad, and young Dr. Sinclair is to be seen at the Rookery almost as frequently as ever, although there is now no special need for looking after his little patient from a medical point of view.
Dick, now a strapping lad of fifteen, has pleased the Rev. Mr. Bolton beyond measure during the two years he has been with him, and the good old vicar does not know which to be most delighted with—his beautiful voice, or the industry and perseverance which he has displayed regarding his own studies.
Molly's pupils have so increased in number that she has for some time past been making a nice steady little income, and she has even felt justified in affording herself some finishing lessons from a good master.
Mrs. Horton, always ready to do the girls any kind service now that their mother cannot go about with them, and more especially since their aunt left England, has taken both Honor and Molly up to London for a few weeks' visit at different times; and the former also, considering that it would be money well spent, has given herself the benefit of a little "brushing up," as she calls it, in her art. Both the girls, therefore, are able to take a better stand in their teaching (for Honor has pupils now in addition to her own painting), and Molly often finds herself correcting, encouraging, or remonstrating, as the case may be, with girls a good deal older than herself; for her fame as a musicianly teacher has spread far and wide, and she has as many grown-up girls as pupils, who are anxious to keep up their practice, as younger ones. Molly has three of the Hallam children now, and a fourth is nearly ready to begin, Indeed, were it feasible, Mrs. Hallam would like to include the baby still in arms in her list of pupils, so anxious is she that they shall all commence early enough and get all the benefit they can from what she is constantly quoting to her friends as "first-class teaching, my dear."
The Mr. Talboys look if anything younger than they did a couple of years back. They have residing in the stables of the Rosery a pretty, knowing-looking pony rejoicing in the name of Puck, the pet and property of Miss Margaret Merivale. At the time previously spoken of, when little Daisy had drooped so with the heat of the summer, and Dr. Sinclair had been racking his brains to think what could be done to revive the feeble strength, which at times seemed ready to ebb away altogether, a bright idea struck him one day. Riding!—the very thing. But how in the world could such a thing be managed? Although the Merivales were in a very different position now to that which they were in when they first came to the village, they were not, he was sure, well enough off to buy and keep a pony.
"Now, if only she could ride Jack," thought the doctor to himself, "he would, I know, be as gentle as a lamb with a child upon his back. But, bless me! his back would be far too broad for little Daisy! Besides, who would there be to ride with her? I don't think Jack would care to consent to a leading rein at his age!"
But nevertheless the doctor goes on thinking and thinking (for during the long time he has now attended the child she has become very dear to him), until he suddenly becomes possessed of a still brighter idea. He will go to the Mr. Talboys and talk it over with them.