"Well, then, we leave it so, and I trust to you to drop me a line, my child, when your visit can be made. We shall find a corner for you and your cousin—if only a pigeonhole. You will not grumble, I dare say, but nestle in comfortably."
"The sun is getting low, dearest Mrs. More," Miss Frowde said; "we should be starting homewards."
"Yes, you are right." Then drawing from a large basket some books, Mrs. More singled out one, and, bending down towards Joyce, said:
"This is the best of books; in it is to be found treasures of riches and knowledge. Accept the Bible from me, as a token of desire that now, in the days of your youth, you may find the Pearl of great price. No one can object to this gift, though objection to other books may be urged."
Joyce took the Bible with a low-spoken "Thank you!" and her father glancing at it, said:
"You are very good to my little daughter, and I, at least, am grateful."
The squire had been secretly hoping that his wife would change her mind and appear, but his hopes were not realised. The carriage rolled off at a leisurely even pace; the good-byes were said, but Mrs. Falconer did not appear.
"It is a pity mother did not come," Joyce said. "What a lovely old lady Mrs. More is."
"Yes," and the squire sighed. "You have got a Bible, Joyce."
"An old one, not like this," Joyce said, "with gilt edges and such a nice purple binding; and I like to have it from Mrs. More. See, father, there are pencil marks in it."