ought of doing for Mrs. Goddard, who in spite of her sad
face had been used to laugh merrily enough with the rest, and whose lithe
figure had seemed to John the embodiment of youthful activity. At last he
ventured to ask her a question.

"Have you been ill, Mrs. Goddard?" he inquired in a voice full of
interest. Her soft eyes glanced uneasily at him. He was now the only one
of the party who was not in some degree acquainted with her troubles.

"Oh no!" she answered nervously. "Only a little headache. It always makes
me quite wretched when I have it."

"Yes. I often have headaches, too," answered John. "The squire told me as
we came down."

"What did he tell you?" asked Mrs. Goddard so quickly as to startle her
companion.

"Oh--only that you had not been very well. Where is it that you suffer?"
he asked sympathetically. "I think it is worst when it seems to be in
the very centre of one's head, like a red-hot nail being driven in with a
hammer--is that like what you feel?"

"I--yes, I daresay. I don't quite know," she answered, her eyes wandering
uneasily about the room. "I suppose you have dreadful headaches over
your work, do you not, Mr. Short?" she added quickly, feeling that she
must say something.

"Oh, it is all over now," said John rather proudly. But as he leaned back
in his chair he said to himself that this meeting was not precisely what
he had anticipated; the subject of headaches might have a fine interest
in its way, but he had expected to have talked of more tender things. To
his own great surprise he felt no desire to do so, however. He had not
recovered from the shock of seeing that Mrs. Goddard had grown old.

"Yes," said she, kindly. "How glad you must be! To have done so
splendidly too--you must feel that you have realised a magnificent
dream."

"No," said John. "I cannot say I do. I have done the thing I meant to do,
or I have good reason to believe that I have; but I have not realised my
dream. I shall never write any more odes, Mrs. Goddard."

"Why not? Oh, you mean to me, Mr. Short?" she added with something of her
old manner. "Well, you know, it is much better that you should not."

"Perhaps so," answered John rather sadly. "I don't know. Frankly, Mrs.
Goddard, did not you sometimes think I was very foolish last Christmas?"

"Very," she said, smiling at him kindly. "But I think you have changed. I
think you are more of a man, now--you have something more serious--"

"I used to think