ould his modesty have believed that he was
important enough to employ the talent of the Orgreaves for agreeable
chicane. The fact was that Janet had been espying him for a quarter of
an hour. When at length she waved her hand to him, it did not occur to
him to suppose that she was waving her hand to him; he merely wondered
what peculiar thing she was doing. Then he blushed as she waved again,
and he knew first from the blood in his face that Janet was making a
signal, and that it was to himself that the signal was directed: his
body had told his mind; this was very odd.

Of course he was obliged to go out; and he went, muttering to himself.

VOLUME TWO, CHAPTER FOUR.

THE TWO GARDENS.

In the full beauty of the afternoon they stood together, only the
scraggy hedge between them, he on grass-tufted clay, and she on orderly
gravel.

"Well," said Janet, earnestly looking at him, "how do you like the
effect of that window, now it's done?"

"Very nice!" he laughed nervously. "Very nice indeed!"

"Father said it was," she remarked. "I do hope Mr Clayhanger will like
it too!" And her voice really was charged with sympathetic hope. It
was as if she would be saddened and cast down if Darius did not approve
the window. It was as if she fervently wished that Darius should not be
disappointed with the window. The unskilled spectator might have
assumed that anxiety for the success of the window would endanger her
sleep at nights. She was perfectly sincere. Her power of emotional
sympathy was all-embracing and inexhaustible. If she heard that an
acquaintance of one of her acquaintances had lost a relative or broken a
limb, she would express genuine deep concern, with a tremor of her
honest and kindly voice. And if she heard the next moment that an
acquaintance of one of her acquaintances had come into five thousand
pounds or affianced himself to a sister-spirit, her eyes would sparkle
with heartfelt joy and her hands clasp each other in sheer delight.

"Oh!" said Edwin, touched. "It'll be all right for the dad. No fear!"

"I haven't seen it yet," she proceeded. "In fact I haven't been in your
house for such a long time. But I do think it's going to be very nice.
All father's houses are so nice, aren't they?"

"Yes," said Edwin, with that sideways shake of the head that in the
vocabulary of his gesture signified, not dissent, but emphatic assent.
"You ought to come and have a look at it." He could not s