"Salome is very contented," remarked Margaret, "but then she would be that anywhere, I believe. She is wonderfully happy, and looks so well."
"Yes," Miss Conway agreed, "a regular nut-brown maid; and, last autumn, she was such a pale, little soul. Mrs. Moyle was telling me yesterday how much she misses her. The Moyles have been good friends to the Pethericks."
Mr. and Mrs. Fowler were seated beneath the lilac tree when the children and the governess entered the grounds. Gerald was the first to spy his parents; and he raced across the lawn to them; and informed them that he had told Josiah of their expected guest, and had bidden him clean his boat in readiness for use.
When Mrs. Lute arrived on the morrow, she was agreeably surprised to note the improvement in Mrs. Fowler's health, and complimented her upon her "Cornish roses," as she called the bright colour in her friend's cheeks, whilst Margaret listened with secret satisfaction and happiness, and meeting her father's eyes, saw that he was delighted, too.
Mrs. Fowler was no longer the neurotic, dissatisfied invalid who had been brought to Greystone almost against her will; but a bright, companionable woman, taking a lively interest in her household, and anxious for the welfare of those she loved. She and her little daughter had been drawn very closely together during the past few months; and they had discovered that they had many interests in common. Both were devoted to music, and Mrs. Fowler had of late fallen into the habit of accompanying Margaret to the church to hear her practise on the organ; and there, often, Salome would join them, and sing at the earnest request of the others her favourite hymn.
It was Gerald who, when the family at Greystone was at breakfast on the morning after Mrs. Lute's arrival, began to talk of Josiah Petherick. Mrs. Lute had not heard the exciting story of the fire, and the little boy told it with considerable gusto, afterwards explaining what the new cottage was like.
"You have missed the chief point of the story, Gerald," his father said, when at length the tale was brought to a conclusion.
"Have I, father?"
"Yes. You have not told how being burnt out of house and home affected Josiah." He turned to Mrs. Lute as he added: "The man has not touched a drop of any kind of intoxicating liquor since."
"Well done!" she exclaimed heartily. "That is news worth hearing. I have so often wondered this past winter how those Pethericks were getting on. The sad, pale face of that lame girl haunted my memory for many a day. And, do you know, when I got home, I thought so much of the many discussions we had had upon the drink question, with the result that I came to the conclusion that I had been wrong all along. And that because I only took stimulants sparingly myself, I had no right to put temptation in the way of others; and so, I've banished intoxicating liquors from my house altogether. What do you say to that?"