"I think someone must have put the idea into her head," was the thoughtful response, at which Doris started guiltily.
"Did you see Mrs. M'Cosh?" asked Molly.
"Yes; and I am the bearer of I don't know how many messages from her to Felicia, all of which I must deliver to-morrow."
The following morning Felicia listened to the account of the interview which had taken place between her governess and Mrs. M'Cosh. The latter had given Miss Barton a warm reception, and had actually shed tears of joy at hearing how well cared for Felicia was.
"Master and I would have liked to have kept her," she had told her visitor, "and now I don't suppose we shall ever see the dear child again; but, please, tell her never a day passes but we speak of her, and we remember her in our prayers, and always shall."
Felicia's blue eyes were misty as Miss Barton repeated this, but there was a smile on her lips, for it was sweet to receive an assurance of her good friends' lasting affection.
It was difficult to settle to lessons again after the week's holiday, and the governess and her pupils were not sorry when the morning's work was over. Felicia had avoided Doris since the night of the storm, believing it had been her elder cousin who had informed Mr. Renford of her visit to the gipsies' encampment, and feeling naturally very indignant against her; but as she was leaving the schoolroom to follow Molly into the garden for a stroll in the fresh air before dinner, Doris called her back, saying—
"Wait a minute, Felicia; I want to speak to you."
"Yes?" Felicia said interrogatively.
Miss Barton had gone to her own room, and Molly was already out-of-doors. Doris looked paler than usual, but her manner was quite composed, whilst Felicia appeared embarrassed.