beside me,
and let us have a nice cosy chat about your future. What are you going to
do when you leave me at the end of the holidays? Are you going back to
the school?"

"Yes--yes; I--think so," said Margaret, beginning to stammer and get red
as she invariably did when Hampstead was mentioned. "At least, I--I don't
know."

"Well, I may be mistaken of course--thank you, my dear, if you will just
reach me my knitting, I can always talk so much better when I am
knitting. Well, as I was going to say, I have an idea that you would be
much happier teaching in a family than in a school. And I do wonder why I
cannot persuade you to let me write to my daughter, Mrs. Lascelles, about
you. I believe when she hears how much the children like you she would be
only too pleased to take you out to Los Angelos for a few years. She
would give you L50 a year--and your travelling expenses, of course. It is
a chance, I assure you, that many girls in your place would jump at, for
it is not, my dear, as if you were very highly certificated, you know.
She will have a lovely house out there, for her husband is a very rich
man, and they will treat you with every kindness and consideration. Now
may I write to her and say that you would like to go?"

Several times already in the course of the past few weeks had Mrs.
Danvers broached this subject to Margaret, but the latter had always
hitherto been able to avoid giving her a direct answer as to why she was
not willing to take the post. But what a thousand pities it was, Margaret
thought, that Eleanor could not accept it. Once the wild idea had
occurred to Margaret that she ought to accept it in Eleanor's name, and
manage somehow to change places with her at the very last moment--on
board the ship, even, perhaps; but fortunately she had seen the utter
folly of that notion before it had taken firm route in her mind. She did
not even know if Eleanor would have cared to go to Los Angelos had the
chance been offered to her, for though she had seen Eleanor twice since
the day on which she had first gone to Windy Gap, she had not been able
to broach the subject to her. For on both occasions Eleanor had been so
full of her own news, and their meetings had been of necessity so brief,
that by the time Eleanor had poured out all she wanted to say the moment
had come for them to part.

Margaret felt very much older than the girl who had left her
grandfather's house three weeks ago. A great deal of experie