"falling-off"--he recognised the same lucidity of expression, the
same point and delicacy of phraseology which had distinguished her
first effort, and the wonderful charm with which a thought was
pressed firmly yet tenderly home to its mark.

"It will be a greater triumph for her and for us than the previous
book!" he said--"She's a wonder!--and the most wonderful thing
about her is that she has no conceit, and is unconscious of her
own power!"

Two or three days after the announcement of her authorship, came a
letter from Robin Clifford.

"DEAR INNOCENT," it ran, "I see that your name, or rather the name
you have taken for yourself, is made famous as that of the author
of a book which is creating a great sensation--and I venture to
write a word of congratulation, hoping it may be acceptable to you
from your playmate and friend of bygone days. I can hardly believe
that the dear little 'Innocent' of Briar Farm has become such a
celebrated and much-talked-of personage, for after all it is not
yet two years since you left us. I have told Priscilla, and she
sends her love and duty, and hopes God will allow her to see you
once again before she dies. The work of the farm goes on as usual,
and everything prospers--all is as Uncle Hugo would have wished--
all except one thing which I know will never be! But you must not
think I grumble at my fate. I might feel lonely if I had not
plenty of work to do and people dependent on me--but under such
circumstances I manage to live a life that is at least useful to
others and I want for nothing. In the evenings when the darkness
closes in, and we light the tall candles in the old pewter