"What was it you were asking about the Thornton girl—just before I said she wasn't a girl; what was it?"
"Oh, I don't know," said Jane blithely; "it doesn't matter anyhow. "Now let's fix our powerful minds on bees. Shall we have them, or shan't we?"
"Can we afford it?"
"Oh yes," said Jane, "if our Mr. Dix says so. He knows about it all—he knows, he knows. That'll turn out all right, don't you worry."
"'And variable as the shade
By the light quivering aspen made . . .'"
said Lucilla.
"Yes, I know," said Jane. "Yes, I was in the dumps, but you're a splendid comforter, Luce. I see that you're right, and everything's all right. And you are right. And I am right. And everything is quite correct."
Lucilla's scissors snipped in a thoughtful silence. But to herself she said, "Oho!" and remained thoughtful in the face of the sudden bright gaiety with which Jane now enlivened their work.
••••••
The afternoon was fine, the fountain played to admiration and Mr. Rochester received the congratulations of the company. Mr. Dix received permission to buy bees, Jane seemed to have received a new lease of her habitual light-hearted optimism, and Lucilla felt that she had received enlightenment.
It was Mr. Rochester's day of triumph, for after the fountain had sprung and sparkled and pretended to be in turn cotton-wool and glass and fine silver, he announced that the library was done, and they trooped along to see it. The too enthusiastic interest of Gladys had led Mr. Rochester to ask leave to keep the door locked, so it was some time since anyone but Rochester had entered the room. Now they all stood in a silence of admiration that followed the first involuntary and unanimous "Oh!"
For all the mustard-coloured paint was gone and the
