o be in the pocket of my
gardening apron. My kind love to Mrs Winn. Tell her to take it
constantly in the night. And don't hurry, love, it's _so_ warm; you
look heated already."

In spite of this last advice, it was almost at a run that Delia, having
at last found the keys and the jam, set forth on her errand. Perhaps,
if she were very quick, she need not lose much time with the Professor,
after all, but she felt ruffled and rather cross at the delay. It was
not an unusual frame of mind, for she was not naturally of a patient
temper, and did not bear very well the little daily frets and jars of
her life. She chafed inwardly as she went quickly on her way, that her
music, which seemed to her the most important thing in the world, should
be sacrificed to anything so uninteresting and dull as Mrs Winn's black
currant jam. It was all the more trying this afternoon, because, since
Anna Forrest's arrival, she had purposely kept away from the Professor,
and had not seen him for a whole fortnight. A mixed feeling of jealousy
and pride had made her determined that Anna should have every
opportunity of making Mr Goodwin's acquaintance without any
interference from herself. It was only just and right that his
grandchild should have the first place in his affections, the place
which hitherto had been her own. Well, now she must take the second
place, and if Anna made the Professor happier, it would not matter. At
any rate, no one should know, however keenly she felt it.

Mrs Winn, who was a widow, lived in an old-fashioned, red brick house
facing the High Street; it had a respectable, dignified appearance,
suggesting solid comfort, like the person of its owner. Mrs Winn,
however, was a lady not anxious for her own well-being only, but most
charitably disposed towards others who were not so prosperous as
herself. She was the Vicar's right hand in all the various methods for
helping the poor of his parish: clothing clubs, Dorcas meetings, coal
clubs, lending library, were all indebted to Mrs Winn for substantial
aid, both in the form of money and personal help.

She was looked up to as a power in Dornton, and her house was much
frequented by all those interested in parish matters, so that she was
seldom to be found alone. Perhaps, also, the fact that the delightful
bow-window of her usual up-stairs sitting-room looked straight across to
Appleby's, the post-office and stationer, increased its attractions.
"It makes it