Mavis did as she was desired.
But her aunt had nothing more for her to do, so she found her way out of the garden by a gate in the hedge into the meadow beyond, and strolled along the bank of the river.
She was still within sight of the house, when she was startled by a big, black, formidable-looking dog, which came up and sniffed at her more out of curiosity—as she was quick enough to discern—than with any idea of intimidating her. Mavis was unaccustomed to dogs, but she was no coward, so she extended her hand to the great animal and spoke to him, whereupon he was so overcome with her condescension that he quite lost his head, and circled around her in delight, whilst she laughed heartily.
"Well, little maiden!"
Mavis turned at the sound of an amused voice addressing her, and found herself face to face with the Vicar. She recognized his elderly, clean-shaven countenance, with its sweet-tempered mouth and clear grey eyes, immediately.
"You are not afraid of my dog, I perceive," he proceeded, with a smile. "You need not be, for he is very quiet. His name is Max. I do not know you, do I?" he asked doubtfully, as he saw recognition in her glance.
"Oh no!" she responded, quickly.
"I think you must be the miller's little niece," he said, after a minute's reflection, during which he had noticed the traces of recent tears on her face. "Mr. Grey told me he expected you, and explained the circumstances under which you were to be left with him. Is your mother gone?"
"She went this morning, not long ago," Mavis replied, with quivering lips. "But she does not sail till Thursday. She is going ever so far away—to Australia—and I shan't see her for months and months," she added, mournfully.
"Meanwhile, I hope you will be very happy at the Mill House with your relatives. Come here, Max."