The next day, when all the children went back to Sunshine Lodge, Jane was greeted by a letter from the aunt who had charge of little Miriam and Bobbie. It was a wonderfully cheerful letter. The aunt—Polly by name—assured Jane that the children were particularly well, and that a kind lady had taken a fancy to them and had given them a lot of clothes. These clothes belonged to some of her own children who had outgrown them, but they were of such good quality and so well made that both Bobbie and Miriam looked almost stylish in them. Bobbie had got shoes, and Miriam pretty frocks; and, in short, for a time at least, the little ones wanted for nothing.
Jane felt as she read this letter that she quite hated it. It seemed to take the ground from under her feet. Her five pounds could have been done without. Ralph’s life need not have been risked, and Jane herself need not have been so fearfully deceitful, and need not have told a lie.
“Oh dear, oh dear!” she said to herself. Her face looked so comical in its distress that Vivian Amberley, who was standing near, asked her if anything was the matter.
“Oh yes,” said Jane; “I have had a letter about the children.”
“Are they ill?” asked Vivian.
“No, no,” answered Jane. “They never were better; and they have got such a lot of beautiful clothes—oh dear, oh dear!”
She gave a deep sigh, and went away.
“Well,” said Vivian, turning to her companion; “I never heard of such a funny reason as that for Jane to be so dismal. The children are well, and have got a lot of new clothes! What can be up?”
“It’s something to do with Harriet, of that I am sure,” said Frederica.
Vivian lowered her voice. “I can’t make out what is wrong,” she said.