Euphrasia, sharply.

"To Fairview," he said.

Euphrasia moved the kettle to another part of the stove.

"You'll see her?" she said.

"Who?" Austen asked. But his voice must have betrayed him a little, for
Euphrasia turned and seized him by the elbows and looked up into his
face.

"Victoria," she said.

He felt himself tremble at the name,--at the strangeness of its sound on
Euphrasia's lips.

"I do not expect to see Miss Flint," he answered, controlling himself as
well as he was able. "I have an errand for the Judge with Mr. Flint
himself."

Euphrasia had guessed his secret! But how?

"Hadn't you better see her?" said Euphrasia, in a curious monotone.

"But I have no errand with her," he objected, mystified yet excited by
Euphrasia's manner.

"She fetched Hilary home," said Euphrasia.

"Yes."

She couldn't have be'n kinder if she was his own daughter."

"I know--" he began, but Euphrasia interrupted.

"She sent that Englishman for the doctor, and waited to take the news to
her father, and she came out in this kitchen and talked to me."

Austen started. Euphrasia was not looking at him now, and suddenly she
dropped his arms and went to the window overlooking the garden.

"She wouldn't go in the parlour, but come right out here in her fine
clothes. I told her I didn't think she belonged in a kitchen--but I guess
I did her an injustice," said Euphrasia, slowly.

"I think you did," he said, and wondered.

"She looked at that garden," Euphrasia went on, "and cried out. I didn't
callate she was like that. And the first thing I knew I was talking about
your mother, and I'd forgot who I was talking to. She wahn't like a
stranger--it was just as if I'd known her always. I haven't understood it
yet. And after a while I told her about that verse, and she wanted to see
it--the verse about the skylark, you know--"

"Yes," said Austen.

"Well, the way she read it made me cry, it brought back Sarah Austen so.
Somehow, I can't account for it, she puts me in mind of your mother."

Austen did not speak.

"In more ways than one," said Euphrasia. "I didn't look to find her so
natural--and so gentle. And their she has a way of scolding you, just as
Sarah Austen had, that you'd never suspect."

"Did she scold you--Phrasie?" asked Austen. And the irresistible humour
that is so near to sorrow made him smile again.

"Indeed she did! And it surprised, me some--coming right out of a summer
sky. I told her what I t