"How Master Gerald does grow!" Salome exclaimed. "And he has so improved too! That's come about since your illness last autumn, miss. He was in a terrible state of distress then."
"So mother has since told me," Margaret replied. "Yes, he has improved; he's much more obedient than he used to be; Miss Conway was saying, only this morning, how little trouble she has with him now."
The truth was, Mrs. Fowler had come to understand that her foolish indulgence had been likely to ruin her little son. And though she loved him no less, she wielded a firmer sway over him, and upheld his governess' discipline. With the result that he was a much more contented little boy than he had been, when he had had his own way. He still sometimes gave way to exhibitions of violent temper, but he was growing ashamed of these paroxysms, and they were becoming less and less frequent.
When Miss Conway and Gerald left the beach, Margaret said good-bye to Salome, and joined the governess and her charge as they were passing the cottage.
"We've been talking to Josiah Petherick," the little boy informed his sister, "and I've been telling him that Mrs. Lute's coming. Do you know, Margaret, that Josiah is going to be in the choir?"
"No. Salome did not tell me; but I left her rather hurriedly when I saw you coming. I know he used to be in the choir before—"
"Before he took to drink," said Gerald, finishing the sentence as she paused in hesitation. "Well, he doesn't drink now; wasn't it a good thing he gave it up? I like Josiah, he's so brave, and he knows such a lot about the sea, and ships."
They had left the village, and were ascending the hill towards Greystone, now and again pausing, to look back the way they had come.
"I don't think the Pethericks' new cottage is half so pretty as their old one, do you, Miss Conway?" Gerald asked, appealing to the governess.
"Perhaps not—in spite of the bow window," she replied. "But the colour of the bricks will tone down with time."