of her own. She was simply "the wife of the Archdeacon." Mrs. Combermere
considered her a "poor little fool." She had no real friends in
Polchester, and it made little difference to any gathering whether she
were there or not. She had been only once known to lose her temper in
public--once in the market-place she had seen a farmer beat his horse over
the eyes. She had actually gone up to him and struck him. Afterwards she
had said that "she did not like to see animals ill-treated." The
Archdeacon had apologised for her, and no more had been said about it. The
farmer had borne her no grudge.

She sat now at the little tea-table, her eyes screwed up over the serious
question of giving the Archdeacon his tea exactly as he wanted it. Her
whole mind was apparently engaged on this problem, and the Archdeacon did
not care to-day that she did not answer his questions and support his
comments because he was very, very happy, the whole of his being thrilling
with security and success and innocent pride.

Joan Brandon came in. In appearance she was, as Mrs. Sampson said,
"insignificant." You would not look at her twice any more than you would
have looked at her mother twice. Her figure was slight and her legs (she
was wearing long skirts this year for the first time) too long. Her hair
was dark brown and her eyes dark brown. She had nice rosy cheeks, but they
were inclined to freckle. She smiled a good deal and laughed, when in
company, more noisily than was proper. "A bit of a tomboy, I'm afraid,"
was what one used to hear about her. But she was not really a tomboy; she
moved quietly, and her own bedroom was always neat and tidy. She had very
little pocket-money and only seldom new clothes, not because the
Archdeacon was mean, but because Joan was so often forgotten and left out
of the scheme of things. It was surprising that the only girl in the house
should be so often forgotten, but the Archdeacon did not care for girls,