Miss Page folded her letter, and replaced it slowly in its envelope.
It was the day for her class of village children, whom she taught to sew, and to whom, while they wrestled with long seams, she read fairy tales.
There was tea in the garden afterwards, and she had forgotten to tell Burks to put out the strawberry jam.
She rose, and went into the house to repair the omission.
VII
“We shall have a very dull winter,” complained Mrs. Carfax, “with so many of you away. Sylvia and Mrs. Dakin have gone already, and now you are going to desert us. We shall feel quite lost.”
It was a damp afternoon in mid-October, and the wood-fire in Miss Page’s drawing-room glowed cheerfully.
The tea-table was drawn up near its blaze, and Mrs. Carfax leant back comfortably in the corner of the sofa, sipping her tea and eating hot cakes appreciatively.
“So you’re going to Rome?” she continued. “We hoped as you didn’t go away last year you had become reconciled to an English winter.”
“I didn’t mean to go,” confessed Anne. “I was very happy here last year. But somehow this autumn I have begun to long for more sunshine. I know we’ve had a lovely summer, and I ought to be content, but the rain of the last fortnight has decided me.”