“I don’t know,” said Jane tearfully. “I don’t want to be selfish, but I can’t imagine how we will manage. I suppose we shall have to live on aerated dainties or go to a boarding-house. Oh dear, oh dear! just as we were so happy,” and Jane’s usually cheerful face got very woe-begone and lugubrious.
Ada seemed to take the matter more calmly. She had been looking very handsome of late and seemed wonderfully contented with things in general. As she wrote to Marion when congratulating her on her approaching marriage, “it is delightful to be amongst one’s friends new and old.” She was very much sought after at the tennis parties and picnics which were so plentiful in the Foxholme neighbourhood at this season of the year, but she was rather difficult of approach and kept most of her admirers at a distance; at least, so the rector remarked to Jane on the day after a certain little outing.
“I wish that Mr. Redfern would keep his distance then,” returned Jane vindictively; at which the rector looked thoughtful.
One day Mrs. Oldham found poor Jane sobbing in the schoolroom, leaning her head disconsolately on a pile of Miss Edgeworth’s Moral Tales.
“My darling child, whatever is the matter?”
“Oh, Aunt Joan, I am so miserable, I don’t know what I shall do.”
By degrees Mrs. Oldham calmed her and induced her to tell her what was the matter.
“I was in the kitchen-garden just now,” said Jane, sobbing, “and Ada came along the other side of the wall, and Mr. Redfern was walking with her. She did not see me, neither did he, and I did not stay a minute; but I am quite sure from the way he was speaking that he had been asking her to marry him, and she—oh, I don’t believe she said she wouldn’t!”
Mrs. Oldham could hardly help laughing, but managed to refrain.
“But, my dear, why should she say she would not? Mr. Redfern is very nice and so are all his family. I have known them for some time. I always thought dear Ada just suited to become a clergyman’s wife. He has a nice little private income of his own, so there will be no need for a long engagement, which is always rather trying, I think. You, poor thing, of course, you feel the idea of losing both Ada and Marion Thomas, but we shall look after you. Uncle and I will arrange something nice. Don’t be afraid that we shall let you live in a boarding-house by yourself,” and she patted Jane’s hands and dried her eyes and kissed her.