of a happier state of things between Mr
Goodwin and his grandchild.

"Did you have a pleasant evening on Saturday?" she asked, when they next
met.

Anna was sitting in the Palmers' pony-cart, outside a shop in the town,
waiting for Isabel: she blushed brightly when she saw Delia, and looked
rather puzzled at her question.

"Where?" she said, vaguely. "Oh, I remember. I was to have had tea
with grandfather, but aunt made another engagement for me, and I didn't
go."

Delia's face clouded over with the disapproving expression Anna knew so
well.

"He didn't mind a bit," she said, leaning forward and speaking
earnestly. "He said another evening would do just as well for him."

"I daresay he did," replied Delia, coldly.

"And, you see, it was a cricket match at Holmbury," Anna continued, in
an apologetic voice; "such a lovely place! and the Palmers offered to
drive me, and another day wouldn't have done for that, and Aunt Sarah
thought--"

"Oh, naturally," said Delia, lightly, "the cricket match was far more
important. And, of course, the Professor wouldn't mind. Why should
he?"

She nodded and passed on, just as Isabel came out of the shop.

"Wasn't that Delia Hunt?" said Isabel, as she got into the pony-cart;
"what is the matter? Her face looked like the sky when thunder is
coming."

Delia felt as she looked, as though a storm were rising within her. She
thought of the Professor's little feast prepared so carefully, the
flowers, the high-backed chair standing ready for the guest who never
came. She could not bear to imagine his disappointment. How could Anna
be so blind, so insensible? All her hard feelings towards her returned,
and they were the more intense because she could speak of them to no
one--a storm without the relief of thunder. She had a half-dread of her
next meeting with Mr Goodwin, for with this resentment in her heart it
would be difficult to talk about Anna with patience, and yet the meeting
must come very soon.

The next day was Wednesday, on which evening it was his custom to stay
in the church after service and play the organ for some time. Delia,
who was generally his only listener, would wait for him, and they would
either stroll home together, or, if it were warm weather, sit for a
little while under a certain tree near the church. They both looked
forward to those meetings, but this week, when the time came, and Delia
mounted the steep street which led up to the church,