“Oh, Jane!” she called, somewhat shakily.

At her voice, the Shy One stopped kicking holes in the turf with the toes of her new boots and executing a bearlike rush, threw herself into her sister’s arms.

“I’m home, Esther!  So’s mother!  And she says I don’t have to go to Sunday School.  That’s why I didn’t want to come in.  Let’s hurry before the minister comes.”

“Listen to that!” said Miss Annabel in indignation.  “Any one would think my brother was an ogre.  Angus!  Why, he’s gone!  I thought he was following us.”

“I think Mr. Macnair went into the house.”

“Did he?  What did I tell you?  Perhaps my news surprised him as well as you.  I thought he looked as pale as a plate.  What do you think?”

“I think it is none of our business.”

Miss Annabel gave her a shrewd look.  “Perhaps not your business.  You don’t have to live with him.  But I do.  Well, good-bye, my dear.  Tell your mother,” significantly, “that I’ll be over to see her soon.”

Both girls were relieved that the minister did not leave his study to say good-bye.  They breathed more freely and their steps slackened as soon as the corner which hid the manse had been safely passed.

“I’ve got new boots,” began Jane.  “See them?  And Fred’s new dog has got puppies!  He calls her Pickles.  She got the puppies this morning.  Oh! they’re darlings!  But Fred is horrid.  He says he is going to give me one for my own, to make up for Timothy.  Just as if anything ever could!  I never knew any one so heartless as Fred—­except Job.”

“Job who?” It was a relief to Esther to let the childish chatter run on.

“Why, Job.  Job was just like Fred. When all his wives died and his little children and his cows, he felt bad, but when God gave him more wives and more children and lots of cows he was pleased as Punch.  I always thought that so strange of God,” in a reflective tone, “but I expect he knew what kind of man Job was and that he didn’t have any real feelings.  Do you think I ought to take the puppy, Esther?  I shouldn’t like to be like Job.”

“I think there is no danger, dear.  But how is mother?  Better?”

“Was she sick?” in surprise.

“Her headaches, you know.”

“Oh, yes.  I don’t know whether they are better or not,” carelessly.  “I didn’t see much of mother while we were away.  I played all day with Mrs. Bremner’s little girl.  Except when we went shopping.  I think she must be better, for she did such lots of shopping.”

Esther smiled.  “Not very much, I think, Janie.  Shopping takes money.”

“But she did!  I have lots and lots of new clothes.  Only,” discontentedly, “most of them don’t fit.  Mother could never be bothered trying them on.  She’s got some lovely things, too.  Dresses and hats and piles of new shoes and heaps of silk stockings—­”

“Jane, why do you say ‘lots’ and ‘piles’ and ‘heaps’ when you know you are exaggerating?”