ck
to the Vicarage alone, she was full of good resolves. She would try to
deserve Delia's friendship. She would go often to Dornton, and be very
loving to her grandfather. She would turn over a new leaf.

"My dear Anna," cried Mrs Forrest, meeting her in the porch with her
basket of wet, shining river-plants, "do you know the time? Miss Stiles
has been waiting to try on your dress for the picnic. Dear me! what
dripping things! Let Mary take them."

The picnic! Anna had really for the moment forgotten the picnic. All
the good resolves trooped into the background again while she tried on
the new dress. But only till _after_ the picnic! When that was over
she would make a fresh start, and never, never, conceal anything again.

CHAPTER EIGHT.

THE BEST THINGS.

A rose which falleth from the hand, which fadeth in the breast,
Until in grieving for the worst, we learn what is the best.

Mrs Browning.

Everything went on quite smoothly until the day fixed for the picnic
came. Aunt Sarah gave no hint of any objection; the weather was
gloriously hot and fine; Anna's new white dress was very pretty--there
was nothing wanting to her long-desired enjoyment.

She stood amongst the nodding roses in the porch, waiting for the
Palmers to call for her in their carriage, on the way to Alderbury.
Aunt Sarah was, perhaps, to drive over and join the party later. Anna
had dismissed all troublesome thoughts. She felt sure she was going to
be very happy, and that nothing unlucky would happen to spoil her
pleasure. She was in gay spirits, as she fastened a bunch of the little
cluster-roses in her dress. Isabel had once told her that she looked
very pretty in white, and she was glad to feel that she suited the
beauty of the bright summer day.

"Anna!" said Mrs Forrest's voice from the hall within.

Anna turned. The hall looked dark and shadowy after the sunshine, but
it was easy to see that there was vexation on her aunt's face as she
studied the letter in her hand.

"I have just had a note from Dr Hunt," she said. "Mr Goodwin, your
grandfather, is not very well."

"What is the matter?" asked Anna.

She left the porch and went up to her aunt's side.

"Why, I can't quite make out. Dr Hunt talks of fever, but says there
is nothing infectious. Brought on by over-exertion in the heat, he
thinks. He says you may safely go to see him--"

There was a pause. Mrs Forrest and Anna looked at each other: each