"Very. He counts you as a friend, there is no doubt about that. I am glad to hear you have had good news of your mother. I saw your uncle a few days ago, and he mentioned that Mrs. Grey had arrived at Sydney safely."
"Oh yes. I shall be having a letter from her from Sydney before Christmas, I expect. Did uncle tell you that Miss Dawson is better, Mr. Moseley?"
"Miss Dawson is the young lady your mother is nursing, I suppose? No, your uncle did not tell me that; but I am very glad."
"She is such a pretty young lady, and so rich; but she is very delicate, though you wouldn't think it to look at her. I never saw her but once, and then she was very kind to me. She gave me a beautiful gold locket and chain for a keepsake. I had nothing of the kind before, and we got quite friendly, though we were only together for a little while. Isn't it odd how quickly one gets friendly with some people?"
He smiled and assented. They were walking in the direction of the vicarage, which Mavis had to pass on her way home.
"I think it's very strange," the little girl continued, knitting her brows thoughtfully. "Now, Rose and I are great friends, and, on the whole, I get on well with Bob, and I'm very fond of Uncle John; but, do you know—" she dropped her voice confidentially as she spoke—"I never can quite like Aunt Lizzie. I do hope it isn't very wrong of me."
"Why can't you like her?" the Vicar asked, looking surprised.
"I don't know," Mavis admitted, shaking her head.
"She's kind to you, I'm sure."
"Oh yes, yes!" The little girl grew red, and hesitated. "Please, Mr. Moseley, what is it to be superficial?" she asked, by-and-by. "Is it something one ought not to be?"