"Not in this world, my dear," he said--"in the next--perhaps! Let
us hope so!"

She put her hand up to her forehead with a bewildered gesture.

"He is dead!" she cried--"Dead! Oh, Robin, Robin! I can't believe
it!--it isn't true! Dad, dear Dad! My only friend! Good-bye--good-
bye, Dad!--good-bye, Briar Farm--good-bye to everything--oh, Dad!"

Her voice quavered and broke in a passion of tears.

"I loved him as if he were my own father," she sobbed. "And he
loved me as if I were his own child! Oh, Dad, darling Dad! We can
never love each other again!"




CHAPTER VIII

The news of Farmer Jocelyn's sudden death was as though a cloud-
burst had broken over the village, dealing utter and hopeless
destruction. To the little community of simple workaday folk
living round Briar Farm it was a greater catastrophe than the
death of any king. Nothing else was talked of. Nothing was done.
Men stood idly about, looking at each other in a kind of stupefied
consternation,--women chattered and whispered at their cottage
doors, shaking their heads with all that melancholy profundity of
wisdom which is not wise till after the event,--the children were