and sound. And
just as futile in practice as logical things usually are! You wouldn't
believe me if I told you that it is the very uncertainty which makes the
charm of youth, or that being certain is the bane of old age, but it's
the truth, all the same, and when you are sixty you will have discovered
it for yourself. Well! so my letter to Mrs Willoughby was of some use
after all? She did send you a card!"

Claire looked across the room to where Mrs Willoughby sat. Hero-
worship is an instinct in hearts which are still fired with youth's
enthusiasm, and this stout, middle-aged woman was Claire's heroine _par
excellence_. She was _kind_, and to be kind is in good truth the
fulfilment of Christ's law. Among Claire's favourite books was
Professor Drummond's "The Greatest Thing in the World," with its
wonderful exposition of the thirteenth chapter of 1st Corinthians. When
she read its pages, her thoughts flew instinctively to this rich woman
of society, who was not puffed up, thought no evil, was not easily
provoked, suffered long, _and was kind_.

The girl's eyes were eloquent with love and admiration as they rested on
the plain, elderly face, and the woman who was watching felt a stab of
envy at the sight. The old crave for the love of the young, and cherish
it, when found, as one of their dearest possessions, and despite the
natural gaiety of her disposition there were moments when Mrs Fanshawe
felt the burden of loneliness press heavily upon her.

"She has done much more than send me a card!" Claire said deeply. "She
has been a friend. She has taken away the terrible feeling of
loneliness. If I were in trouble, or needed any help, I _know_ that she
would give it!"

"Oh, yes, yes, naturally she would. So would any one, my dear, who had
the chance. But she's a good creature, of course; a dear creature. I'm
devoted to her, and to Janet. Janet and I are the best of friends!"

Again the meaning look, the meaning tone, and again in Claire's heart
the same sweet sense of certainty mingled with a tender compassion for
Janet, who was less fortunate than herself. It was a help to look
across at the tea-table, and to realise that consolation was waiting for
Janet if she chose to take it.

Suddenly Mrs Fanshawe switched off on to yet another topic.

"And where are you going to spend your summer holidays, my dear?"

"In September I am probably going to a farmhouse near the sea."

"And in August?"

"In t