“Oh, isn’t it like old times,” sighed Kitty happily, “to be together again, and by ourselves.  Father, are you frightened by the thought of us all?”

Dr. Trenire laughed.  “Not really frightened,” he said.  “You see, I can always send for your aunt.  She assured me she would return at once if I found you all unmanageable.”

“Oh,” said Kitty gravely, “then we will promise not to be quite unmanageable, but just bad enough.”

At that moment Lady Kitson’s carriage overtook them, and her ladyship looked out and smiled and bowed to the doctor as she passed.  “Don’t you let them wear you out, doctor,” she cried.

Kitty, with sudden recollection, leaned forward and studied her father’s face earnestly—­as much, at least, as she could see of it.  “Father,” she said anxiously, “Lady Kitson told us that you were not at all well.  Aren’t you?”

She had unconsciously expected, or at least hoped for, a prompt and strong reassurance; but her father did not answer for a moment, and then but half-heartedly.  “I haven’t been quite up to the mark,” he said quietly, “but,” looking round and seeing the anxiety on her face, “it is nothing to worry about, dear.  I would have told you if it had been.  I am rather overworked and tired, that is all.  It has been a very heavy winter of illness and anxiety.  I shall be better now the spring has come, and I have you all home to liven me up.  We must try and give Pamela a happy time, and you must take her to all your pet haunts.”

But Dr. Trenire was not as well as he led them to believe; and though Kitty was not observant enough to notice such signs as a slower, heavier step, a want of energy in setting about his work, a flagging appetite, she did notice that he was quieter and graver, and had not such spirits as of old.

Pamela became at once a favourite with every one.  Even Jabez unbent, and was not always suspecting her of some mischief or other.

“What part of the county do ’ee come from, miss?” he asked when first he was introduced.

“I am afraid I don’t belong to this county at all,” said Pamela apologetically.  “I am not a Cornishwoman.”

Jabez looked disappointed, but he tried his best not to make her feel her sad position more than she could help.  “Well now, that’s a pity; but there, we can’t always help ourselves, can we, miss? and ’tisn’t for we to make ’ee feel it more’n you do a’ready.  We’ve all on us got something to put up with.  Whereabouts up along do ’ee come from, miss, if ’tisn’t a rude question?”

“Devon,” said Pamela, smiling at the old man.  “It might be ever so much worse, mightn’t it?  Do give me some comfort, Jabez,”

“Well, yess, miss,” he answered, willing to cheer her if he could.  “And maybe ’twas only an accident.  Your parents ’d gone there to live, or something of that sort.  Accidents will happen to the most deserving.”

“Yes,” sighed Pamela, “I feel it was a mistake, for directly I came here I felt at home, and I had never done so before.”