It was the first real collision that had taken place, but Alick’s quiet, almost languid tone had an absolute determination in it from the very absence of argument, and Rachel, though extremely annoyed, felt the uselessness of battling the point.  She paused for a few moments, then said with an effort, “May I take the housekeeper?”

“Yes, certainly,” and then he added some advice about taking a brougham, and thus lightened her heart; so that she presently said humbly,

“Have I been self-willed and overbearing, Alick?”

He laughed.  “Not at all; you have persevered just where you ought.  I dare say this is all more essential than shows on the surface.  And,” he added, with a shaken voice, “if you were not myself, Rachel, you know how I should thank you for caring for my poor Bessie’s child.”  He was gone almost as he spoke the words, but Rachel still felt the kiss and the hot tears that had fallen on her face.

Mr. Clare readily consented to spare his housekeeper, but the housekeeper was untoward, she was “busied in her housewife skep,” and would not stir.  Alick was gone to Timber End, and Rachel was just talking of getting the schoolmaster’s wife as an escort, when Mr. Clare said—­

“Pray are you above accepting my services?”

“You!  Oh, uncle; thank you, but—­”

“What were your orders?  Anybody with you, was it not?  I flatter myself that I have some body, at least.”

“If Alick will not think I ought not!”

“The boy will not presume to object to what I do with you.”

“I do wish it very much,” said candid Rachel.

“Of course you do, my dear.  Alick is not cured of a young man’s notion that babies are a sort of puppies.  He is quite right not to let you run about London by yourself, but he will be quite satisfied if you find eyes and I find discretion.”

“But is it not very troublesome to you?”

“It is a capital lark!” said Mr. Clare, with a zest that only the slang word could imply, removing all Rachel’s scruples, and in effect Mr. Clare did enjoy the spice of adventure in a most amusing way.  He knew perfectly well how to manage, laid out the plan of operations, gave orders to the driver, went into all the shops, and was an effective assistant in the choice of material and even of embroidery.  His touch and ear seemed to do more for him than many men’s eyes do for them; he heard odd scraps of conversation and retailed them with so much character; he had such pleasant colloquies with all in whose way he fell, and so thoroughly enjoyed the flow and babble of the full stream of life, that Rachel marvelled that the seclusion of his parsonage was bearable to him.  He took her to lunch with an old friend, a lady who had devoted herself to the care of poor girls to be trained as servants, and Rachel had the first real sight of one of the many great and good works set on foot by personal and direct labour.