“Don’t overdo it, that’s all!” he said.  “Young Bunny is always at it, and it’s very bad for him.”

“Oh, I’ve got heaps more sense than Bunny,” said Toby, with lofty assurance.

She smoked the cigarette with delicate appreciation though Jake’s tobacco was by no means suited to a feminine palate, and they returned at peace with all the world.

Maud, who had been watching for them somewhat anxiously, saw with relief that her fears were groundless.  Toby’s serene countenance told her that all was well.  No, she had not hated it so very badly after all.  It was nothing to make a fuss about anyhow.  She would go again if Jake liked.

She seemed in fact mildly amused by the idea that he could be so easily pleased, and asked him later with her chin in the air if there were any other odd jobs he would like her to perform.

But when Maud presently went to the piano, she came and sat on a low chair near her and listened in absolute stillness while she played.  They were alone, and Maud played on and on, almost forgetful of her silent companion, suffering her fingers to wander in unison with her thoughts.  All her life music had been her great joy and solace.  She was not a brilliant musician as was Saltash, but she had the gift of so steeping herself in music that she could at times thereby express that which otherwise would have been unutterable—­the hidden emotions of her soul.

Nearly an hour had passed thus before she remembered the silent little figure behind her, and then it was with a swift sense of compunction that she took her hands from the keys and turned.

“Toby dear, how boring this must be for you!  Are you asleep?  Why, child, what is it?”

With a start she saw that Toby’s fair head was bowed upon her arms in an attitude of the most hopeless, the most bitter, despair.

She made a convulsive movement at the sound of Maud’s voice, and in a moment lifted a white, strained face.  “I am just a little tired, that’s all,” she said in a voice that quivered in spite of her.  “Please go on playing!  I like it.”

Maud got up with quiet decision and went to her, but Toby was on her feet before she reached her.  She stood with that look of a small, frightened animal so characteristic of her, her two hands nervously locked together.

Maud took her gently by the arm.  “Shall we sit down and talk?” she said.

Toby yielded as it were involuntarily to the quiet touch.  In her plain white blouse with the sailor collar she looked a mere child—­a piteous, shy child.

Maud drew her down upon the sofa.  All the mother in her went out to the forlorn little creature, yet for the moment she hesitated, as one afraid to strike a wrong note.

Toby was trembling a little and that fact decided her.  She put a comforting arm about her.

“Do you know I am wondering how to make you happy?” she said.

Toby choked back a sob.  “You are very kind, and I am stupid—­stupid.  I will try to be happy.  I will really.”