"To tell you the truth, I've never felt quite satisfied about her going to that post she accepted. I really owed it to her father to find out what kind of people her employers were."
"Well, dear, she didn't give you much chance of doing that. You remember she answered the advertisement, and got the situation through an agency, and we knew nothing about it until everything was settled."
"Yes, but I still feel I ought to have made a point of inquiring personally. Does she seem happy?"
"I don't know about happy—I should imagine not very; one can hardly expect that, perhaps—but she mentions the people are kind, and the country lovely. It is evident she is leading a quiet life; her employers for some reason seem to wish to live in retirement."
"Now, I wonder why? I don't quite like that fact," said the Doctor, a little testily.
"Why, John, surely you are unreasonably suspicious; the child is evidently in a comfortable home, and I think must be interested in her work, or she would not have stayed so long. I made her promise to come away to us at once if she found anything wrong—in fact I asked her here for the holidays in August."
"Oh, I'm glad you did that!" he interposed in more satisfied tones. "And what does she say?"
"I think she fears it would be painful to see the old home again so soon; she says she has been asked to stay where she is, and she would rather remain, and in fact she does not need rest yet."
"I hope it is all right then," answered Dr. Crane. "Ask her in your next to tell you everything unreservedly about the people, and if she is quite content? Seems strange Woodford's daughter should be out in the world like this, doesn't it?" he finished musingly.
"Yes—and how different it might have been if Jack—had—lived," said Mrs. Crane sadly.