opinion for granted in that way!" she said. "I have hardly had time to
form one yet."

"Then I may ask my question?" said Piers.

She turned steady grey eyes upon him. "Yes; you may."

Piers' face was perfectly serious. "Are you really married?" he asked.

The level brows went up a little. "I have been a widow for six years,"
said Avery very quietly.

He stared at her in surprise unfeigned. "Six years!"

She replied in the same quiet voice. "I lost my husband when I was
twenty-two."

"Great Heavens above!" ejaculated Piers. "But you're not--not--I say,
forgive me, I must say it--you can't be as old as that!"

"I am twenty-nine," said Avery faintly smiling.

They had reached the letter-box. She dropped in her letters one by one.
Piers stood confounded, looking on.

Suddenly he spoke. "And you've been doing this mothers'-helping business
for six years?"

"Oh no!" she said.

She turned round from the box and faced him. The red winter sunset glowed
softly upon her. Her grey eyes looked straight into it.

"No!" she said again. "I had my little girl to take care of for the first
six months. You see, she was born blind, soon after her father's death,
and she needed all the care I could give her."

Piers made a sharp movement--a gesture that was almost passionate; but he
said nothing.

Avery withdrew her eyes from the sunset, and looked at him. "She died,"
she said, "and that left me with nothing to do. I have no near
relations. So I just had to set to work to find something to occupy me.
I went into a children's hospital for training, and spent some years
there. Then when that came to an end, I took a holiday; but I found I
wanted children. So I cast about me, and finally answered Mr. Lorimer's
advertisement and came here." She began to smile. "At least I have
plenty of children now."

"Oh, I say!" broke in Piers. "What a perfectly horrible life you've had!
You don't mean to say you're happy, what?"

Avery laughed. "I'm much too busy to think about it. And now I really
must run back. I've promised to take charge of the babies this afternoon.
Good-bye!" She held out her hand to him with frank friendliness, as if
she divined the sympathy he did not utter.

He gripped it hard for a moment. "Thanks awfully for being so decent as
to tell me!" he said, looking back at her with eyes as frank as her own.
"I'm going on down to the home farm. Good-bye!"

He raised his cap, and abruptly strode away. And in the mom