exactly
comfortable when her views did not strictly accord with his own. To find
that Anice was regarding a favorite whim with questioning, was for him
to begin to falter a trifle inwardly, however testily rebellious he
might feel. He was a man who thrived under encouragement, and sank at
once before failure; failure was unpleasant, and he rarely contended
long against unpleasantness; it was not a "fair wind and no favor" with
him, he wanted both the fair wind and the favor, and if either
failed him he felt himself rather badly used. So it was, through this
discreetly exerted influence of Anice's, that Grace, to his surprise,
found some irksome tasks taken from his shoulders at this time. He did
not know that it was Anice he had to thank for the temporary relief.

CHAPTER VII - Anice at the Cottage

ANICE went to see Liz. Perhaps if the truth were told, she went to see
Joan more than to visit Joan's _protegee_ though her interest extended
from the one to the other. But she did not see Joan, she only heard of
her. Liz met her visitor without any manifestations of enthusiasm. She
was grateful, but gratitude was not often a powerful emotion with her.
But Anice began to attract her somewhat before she had been in the house
ten minutes. Liz found, first, that she was not one of the enemy,
and did not come to read a homily to her concerning her sins and
transgressions; having her mind set at ease thus far, she found time to
be interested in her. Her visitor's beauty, her prettiness of toilet, a
certain delicate grace of presence, were all virtues in Liz's eyes. She
was so fond of pretty things herself, she had been wont to feel such
pleasure and pride in her own beauty, that such outward charms were
the strongest of charms to her. She forgot to be abashed and miserable,
when, after talking a few minutes, Anice came to her and bent over the
child as it lay on her knee. She even had the courage to regard the
material of her dress with some degree of interest.

"Yo'n getten that theer i' Lunnon," she ventured, wistfully touching the
pretty silk with her finger. "Theer's noan sich i' Riggan."

"Yes," answered Anice, letting the baby's hand cling to her fingers. "I
bought it in London."

Liz touched it again, and this time the wistful-ness in her touch crept
up to her eyes, mingled with a little fretfulness.

"Ivverything's fine as comes fro' Lunnon," she said. "It's the grandest
place i' th' world. I dunnot wonder as