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she had done the really right thing. What had she done? To save
her father's friend from danger, to save her father from unmerited
suspicion, she had gone out late in the evening with a man
considerably over fifty, whom she had known from her babyhood. He
had, it is true, been in the disguise of a young man. She had
talked to him on the platform much as she would have talked to Tom,
and to save his almost certain detection, had sprung into the
carriage, thrown her arms round his neck, and kissed him. HAD
audacity outweighed her modesty? Why, all the time she had been
thanking God for having allowed her to undertake the difficult task
for her father on that particular evening. She had done it in the
sight of God, and should she now make herself miserable because the
world was wanting in that charity which thinketh no evil? No,
she had been right of that she was certain. Nevertheless, she
understood well enough that society would condemn her action, and
would with a smile condone Rose's most outrageous flirtation.
The first week in a new place always seems long, and Erica felt as
if she had been away from home for months by the time it was over.
Every one had been very kind to her so far, but except when she was
playing lawntennis she was somehow far from happy., Her happiest
moments were really those which she spent in her own room before
breakfast, writing; and the Daily Review owed some very lively
articles to the Greyshot visit. Beyond a sort of clan feeling for
her aunt, and a real liking for Rose who, in spite of her follies,
was goodhumored and very lovable she had not yet found one point
of union with her new relations. Even possible topics of
conversation were hard to find. They cared nothing for politics,
they cared nothing for science, they were none of them book lovers,
and it was against their sense of etiquette to speak of anything
but the externals of religion. Worst of all, any allusion to home
matters, any mention of her father had to be avoided. Little was
left but the mere gossip of the neighborhood, which, except as a
social study, could not interest Erica.
Greyshot was an idle place; the church seemed asleep, a drowsy
indifference hung about the richer inhabitants, while the honest
workers not unnaturally banded themself together against the
sleepily respectable churchgoers, and secularism and one or two
other isms made rapid advances. Then sleepy orthodoxy lifted its
drowsy head for a minute, noted the evil, and abused Mr. Raeburn
and his fellow workers, lamenting in manysyllable words the
depravity of the working classes and the rapid spread of

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