XVII.

To Penelope the weeks that followed the great day were very sorrowful
ones. Miss Row apparently could not forgive her. Day after day she
waited, hoping for a message bidding her come to renew her lessons; but no
message came, and Penelope grew sick with disappointment and grief that
she should have given such offence to her good friend. She went to Cousin
Charlotte about it--she had told her at once the story of how they had
given offence--but Cousin Charlotte only shook her head.

"I think you cannot do anything, dear, but go and apologise if you feel
you spoke rudely; but--well, to tell you the truth, Penelope, Miss Row has
a most unfortunate temper. She was born with it, and she was never taught
to check it, and now it is too late. I tell you this as a warning,
child."

Penelope did go to Cold Harbour to apologise. She thought she would feel
happier if she did; but there she only met with another blow. Miss Row
had gone away, and no one knew when she would come back. Returning more
dejected than ever, she looked in at the church on her way home. If she
could have practised a little it would have comforted her, but the organ
was locked. Miss Row had probably left the key with some one, but
Penelope felt she could not ask for it, as Miss Row had not said anything
to her about it; so everything seemed at a standstill and full of gloom.

Esther, meantime, was spending what were perhaps the happiest weeks she
had ever known. She went to Mademoiselle Leperier three times a week to
sit with her and read to her and do little things she needed done, and in
return Mademoiselle gave her lessons and talked to her in French, so that
very soon Esther began to feel she was becoming quite proficient in the
language. So the visits were a double and a treble joy to her.
She loved to be with Mademoiselle in the dear little brown house where all
was so quiet and peaceful, and nothing rubbed her the wrong way; or to
stroll about the moor together. She loved to learn, and, perhaps best of
all, she loved to be of use and feel she was some help. Such pleasant
walks they had, and such long talks as they strolled slowly about, or sat
in the sunny sweet garden, looking over the great empty space where nature
dwelt alone, or in the cosy little parlour, fragrant always with the scent
of flowers and the pot-pourri with which the old blue bowls and teapots
were filled. One of Esther's self-appointed duties was to keep the