God had been good to her, she told herself, for He had answered her earnest prayers on her father's behalf. And her love and patience, so often sorely tried, had not been in vain.
A step on the gravel path caused Salome to raise her eyes from her work, and her face lit up with a glad, welcoming smile as she saw Margaret Fowler coming to the door.
"Don't get up," Margaret called to her, "I'll let myself in, if I may," and a minute later she entered the room, her fair countenance aglow with health and happiness. She seated herself in the bow window opposite to Salome, and glanced around the bare, little parlour with smiling eyes undimmed by any shadow of trouble now. "I've been practising the organ," she said. "Mother and father have been listening, and criticising my performance. They both think I've improved wonderfully of late."
"Indeed you have, Miss Margaret," Salome agreed heartily.
"Mother and father have gone home; but I thought I would like a chat with you. I like this bow window, don't you?"
"Yes, miss; it makes the room so light and airy. I'm afraid the place looks very bare, though, with no carpet, and no furniture but that deal table and these two chairs."
"Never mind. I daresay you'll add to your stock of furniture later on."
"That's what father says. We must try to pick things together gradually again. People have been so kind to us, you can't imagine how kind. Mrs. Moyle gave us her old dinner set, and some odd cups and plates; and Mr. Amyatt's housekeeper sent down some bedding from the Vicarage—of course Mr. Amyatt must have told her to do so. Then your dear mother, miss! See what she has done for us. Why, she made us a present of the very chairs we're sitting on, and—"
"Oh, yes, I know!" Margaret interposed. "I think there's little mother wouldn't do for you, Salome."
"But the best thing she ever did, was when she induced father to take the pledge. I am sure he would never have done so, if she had not set him the example. Oh, miss, I believe he regretted it, at first; but now, I'm certain, in his heart, he knows it has been his salvation. He isn't like the same man he was a year ago. Look at him now," pointing to a stalwart figure seated on the beach bending over a fishing net. "Last summer, you wouldn't have found him content to mind his business like that, he'd have been at the 'Crab and Cockle' drinking. I little thought when I heard Greystone was taken, what kind friends you all would be to father and me."