all I had and that's what I feel. But if you knew--if you knew--all
the things he did."

They walked on again, entering Rothin Wood. "He never tried to make
me religious," she went on. "He didn't care what I felt. I sat in
the choir, and I took a Sunday-school class, and I visited the
villagers, but I, myself--what happened to me--he didn't care. He
never took any trouble about the church, he just gabbled the prayers
and preached the same old sermons. People in the village said it was
a scandal and that he ought to be turned out but no one ever did
anything. They'll clean everything up now. There'll be a new
clergyman. They'll mend the holes in the kitchen floor and the
ceiling of my bedroom. It will be all new and fresh."

"And what will you do, Maggie?" said her uncle, trying to make his
voice indifferent as though he had no personal interest in her
plans.

"I haven't thought yet," she said.

"I've an idea," he went on. "What do you say to your living with me?
A nice little place somewhere in London. I've felt for a long time
that I should settle down. Your father will have left you a little
money--not much, perhaps, but just enough for us to manage
comfortably. And there we'd be, as easy as anything. I can see us
very happy together."

But he did not as yet know his niece. She shook her head.

"No," she said. "I'm going to live with Aunt Anne and Aunt