here is Piers too."

Yes, there was Piers,--another consideration that filled Avery with
uneasiness. No word from Piers had reached her since that early morning
on the shore, but his silence did not reassure her. She had half expected
a boyish letter of apology, some friendly reassurance, some word at least
of his return to Rodding Abbey. But she had heard nothing. She did not so
much as know if he had returned or not.

Neither had she heard from her friend Edmund Crowther. With a sense of
keen disappointment she wrote to his home in the North to tell him of the
change in her plans. She could not ask him to the Vicarage, and it seemed
that she might not meet him after all.

She also sent a hurried note to Lennox Tudor, but they had only three
days in which to terminate their visit, and she received no reply. Later,
she heard that Tudor had been away for those days and did not open the
note until the actual day of their return.

The other children were expected home from school during the week before
Easter, and Mr. Lorimer desired that Avery should be at the Vicarage to
prepare for them. So, early in the week, they returned.

It seemed that Spring had come at last. The hedges were all bursting into
tenderest green, and all the world looked young.

"The primroses will be out in the Park woods," said Jeanie. "We will go
and gather heaps and heaps."

"Are you allowed to go wherever you like there?" asked Avery, thinking
of the game.

"Oh no," said Jeanie thoughtfully. "But we always do. Mr. Marshall chases
us sometimes, but we always get away."

She smiled at the thought, and Avery frankly rejoiced to see her
enthusiasm for the wicked game of trespassing in the Squire's preserves.
She did not know that the amusement had been strictly prohibited by the
Vicar, and it did not occur to Jeanie to tell her. None of the children
had ever paid any attention to the prohibition. There were some rules
that no one could keep.

The return of the rest of the family kept the days that succeeded their
return extremely lively. Jeanie was in higher spirits than Avery had
ever seen her. She seemed more childish, more eager for fun, as though
some of the zest of life had got into her veins at last. Her mother
ascribed the change to Avery's influence, and was pathetic in her
gratitude, though Avery disclaimed all credit declaring that the sea-air
had wrought the wonder.

When Lennox Tudor saw her, he looked at Avery with an odd sm