and only forbade me to visit in any
of the cottages if there was sickness. Roddy was well again, and no
other cases of diphtheria had been heard of. I promised her I would be
careful, and joyfully took up my work again, but found I missed Jim
much more than I could have imagined. He had always been so helpful at
the class, arranging the seats, keeping an eye on the very little ones,
and guiding Kitty Brown to and fro. Poor Kitty missed him dreadfully.
'He never teased me, teacher, like the other boys do; he never said a
cross word. I wish sometimes it had been me that was took; but I
'spose I'm not good enough.'

'I think Jesus, perhaps, wants you to do some work for Him that Jim
couldn't,' I replied, answering her in much the same way I had been
answered myself a short time before.

Here Roddy broke in. 'What's Jim doing, teacher? Mother says singin'
hymns. Won't he never get time to write a letter to me? I asked him
to.'

'He is doing just what Jesus wants him to, Roddy. You mustn't expect a
letter, but you will see him again one day, and that will be better
than a letter.'

So the time slipped on, and writing so constantly to Philip and hearing
from him in return, was my greatest consolation during his absence.
Twice he managed to come down for a couple of days, which were much
enjoyed by us both; and then Easter drew near, and with it all the
bustle attending the preparations for Constance's wedding. After it
was over we were to go down to Cobham Hall, which was Philip's place,
and stay there for three or four weeks, and Nelly as well as myself was
greatly looking forward to it.

Two days before the wedding we were gathered, a large and merry party,
in the drawing-room after dinner. Philip had come down that afternoon,
but in spite of his pleasure at being with us again, I fancied he was
ill at ease, and wondered at the cause.

'Now, Goody Two-Shoes,' Kenneth cried, when music was going on, 'give
us something extra nice from your fiddle. Get into a dream over it,
and make us all as dreamy as yourself.'

I took my violin up, and standing in my favourite position against one
of the French windows I began to play. Everything that evening is
stamped vividly upon my memory. I can see now the yellow jasmine
outside the windows fluttering to and fro in the breeze, the lilacs and
laburnums on the lawn sending some of their sweet fragrance through one
of the half-opened doors, and the last rays of the