"Ah! Poor dear! You must be lonesome now the gentleman's gone," said Mrs. Quiller commiseratingly.
"Oh, no," said Mab lightly. "Not so very. I couldn't ask my cousin to give up all his time to me you know. Besides, he would come to see me at any time if I really wanted him."
"Ah!" Mrs. Quiller shook her head. "But it ain't the same. You wants a home of your own, my dear. That's what it is. What's become of t'other gentleman what used to be down here?"
Mab almost laughed at the artlessness of this query.
"Mr. Merefleet, you mean? I don't know. I guess he's making some more money."
At this point old Quiller, who had been toddling about in the November sunshine outside, pushed open the door in a state of breathless excitement.
"Here's Master Bernard coming, missie," he announced.
Mab started to her feet, her face in a sudden, marvellous glow.
"There now!" said Mrs. Quiller, relieving her of her precious burden. "Who'd have thought it? You'd better go and talk to him."
And Mab stepped out into the soft sunshine. It fell around her in a flood and dazzled her. She stood quite still and waited, till out of the brilliance someone came to her and took her hand. The waves were dashing loudly on the shore. The south wind raced by with a warm rushing. The whole world seemed to laugh. She closed her eyes and laughed with it.