He laughed, and Susan laughed with him. The Squire waxed confidential.
"Just between us, let it go no further, William Saint will be called up."
"The Lard be praised! This be heartsome news, Sir Geoffrey. If you gets me a man, trade'll come back."
"You rest easy. I repeat, all this is my affair. I'm still Squire of Nether-Applewhite. Have you seen my grandson lately?"
"No, Sir Geoffrey."
"You come along with me to the nursery, and we'll have a squint at him. He's a whopper."
And thus the sun shone bright once more in Mrs. Yellam's heaven. The Squire proved even better than his word. What he said in private to William Saint was never known. Sir Geoffrey found, for Mrs. Yellam, a reliable driver, an ex-soldier discharged from the army but not disabled, with a merry eye and a persuasive tongue. Saint's 'bus went to the station, as before, not to Salisbury.
You may think of this time as the St. Martin's Summer of Mrs. Yellam's life. The dull November days drifted by, bringing with them mist and rain and wind; the trees were stripped of their leaves; Nature sang her requiem for the dying year; but Pentecostal joys filled Mrs. Yellam's heart.
And this Feast of Rejoicing affected Fancy and her child. The Yellam cottage became a heat-centre. From it radiated warming beams. Susan, at work in her kitchen, could hear Fancy's clear voice singing "Abide with Me."
Hold Thou Thy Cross before my closing eyes; Shine through the gloom, and point me to the skies: Heaven's morning breaks, and earth'svain shadows flee; In life, in death, O Lord, abide with me!