A few days afterwards Miss Falkner took Jack and Jill out for a drive
in a low pony-chaise that was their special property.
Mona came out on the doorstep to see them start.
"I'm so glad you can drive, Miss Falkner," she said, "for I shall have
no fears about the children with you as driver. The grooms can't be
trusted. They give the reins to them, and Jack upset the whole concern
just before you came."
"I used to drive as a tiny child," said Miss Falkner with heightened
colour. "I have not done so lately, but one never loses the art."
Mona looked at her curiously. She began to feel a great interest in this
young girl, who had so quietly taken the reins in the school-room and
was slowly but surely influencing the young turbulent spirits in it.
The children were giving their pony sugar. Mona looked at them, then she
laid her hand gently on Miss Falkner's arm.
"Some day you will tell me about yourself and your home," she said.
The quick tears sprang to the young governess's eyes. She felt as she
stood there that the girl who spoke to her had all that the world could
give her. She had as yet been untouched by the storms of life, and on
her proud young face there were lines of discontent and restlessness
that would never be effaced till she had learnt some of life's lessons,
and perhaps been through the school of suffering.
They were very nearly the same age, were two blocks of stone, ordained
for a building above; yet though one was cut and chiselled already,
the other bore no impress of the Master's hand.
But the sympathetic touch and words struck a chord in Miss Falkner's
heart. She forgot from that time that Mona Baron was her employer,
she thought of her only as a girl who might need help.
"Now where shall we go, children?" she asked, as they drove down the
sweet-smelling lime avenue into the high road.
"Oh, do drive up to Chilton Common," cried Jack; "there are such a lot
of rabbits there, and we can see the sea from it."
So to Chilton Common they went. It was about four miles off, and at
first sight looked a dreary expanse of wild moorland. As they crossed
it, they caught the salt scent of the sea, and soon came to a cluster
of poor-looking cottages, but beyond them in the distance was the
unmistakable blue line of the ocean, and the children seemed delighted.
"I wish we lived by the sea," said Jill. "I like to be on the very
outside edge of the earth."
"Why?" inquired Jack.
Jill seldom gave reasons for her likes and dislikes.
"Because I do," she returned sharply.
"Oh, look, Miss Falkner, there's our rector, Mr. Errington. He has a
lot of people round him. P'raps he's preaching!"
Mr. Errington caught sight of them and smiled at the children, who were
great favourites of his. Then he came forward.
"My horse has gone very lame," he explained.
"I am thinking of leaving him here at the blacksmith's and walking home."
"Can we give you a lift?" asked Miss Falkner.
"That will be very good of you. I shall be grateful for my wife will be
expecting me and will be anxious."
"Jill thought you were preaching," said Jack. "Wasn't she silly? As if
you'd preach on a weekday!"
"I wish I had been," said Mr. Errington with a smile.
Then he turned to Miss Falkner.
"These are my parishioners," he said, "and not one of them comes to
church. They're just like heathen. It looks a God-forsaken place, does
it not?"
"It seems a strange place to see cottages," said Miss Falkner. "How do
they earn their living?"
"By peat-cutting, and working in a quarry a mile off. The blacksmith
is unable to walk far, or I really think I should see him at church
sometimes. The rest are totally indifferent to their soul's welfare. I
am longing to build a little mission-room and come over and have a service
for them, but it would cost money, and I have none to spare at present."
"It is a pity," said Miss Falkner gently. "One wonders sometimes if money
drifted into the right channels whether this dense ignorance would be
overcome. At my old home there was a district very like this. My father's
curate was indefatigable in trying to raise money, and he eventually
succeeded. It was a great success, for the people came to the mission
church and sent their children to school. But he--" her voice faltered a
little, "overworked himself, took cold and died, and my father followed
him. The present rector does not care for the mission-room. He thinks
they ought to come to church, and they don't do it."
Mr. Errington nodded with perfect comprehension.
"Of course not. It would want a good deal of zeal to walk eight miles
after a week's hard work. Our English labourer will not do it."
They talked on, and much of the conversation was above the children's
heads, but Jill was a sharp child, and she was already evolving a plan in
her head, which had the effect of taking her to the Rectory the next day.
Mrs. Errington was a great invalid. When she was told that "Miss Jill
Baron" wanted to see her, she said to her husband, who was overlooking
some accounts with her:
"My dear Robert, we ought not to be disturbed. Shall we say we are
engaged?"
"No," said Mr. Errington, leaning back in his chair with a laugh; "I am
dazed with figures. Let us be refreshed by one of the fresh things in
this world. There is nothing like a child for relieving one of care."
Jill was ushered in, flushed and excited. She could hardly wait to
shake hands.
"Jack and Bumps are willing, and so I've come with it," she said. "It's
to help to build that church on the common. Miss Falkner said we might,
and I've brought it in our bag."