If it was wet Jennet stopped indoors worrying as to how the Thompson household was managing without her, but unless the rain was coming down too hard to make walking on the moor a reasonable pastime, she set off every day after breakfast, her thoughts full of the possible jobs that might be awaiting her.Betty was back at school now, and Mrs. Thompson came downstairs for a few hours each day. She did not talk much, but her rough kindliness was apparent in her small unconscious gestures of affection towards her children and towards Jennet herself.“Do your people know you come here?” she asked her once.“No,” said Jennet, and when Mrs. Thompson gave her a level look, added pleadingly:“It’s so difficult to explain. I don’t think Aunt Emily would mind, but Cousin Julian—he runs my life, chooses my friends and—and—this is the one thing I’ve found for myself. Cousin Julian would never understand!”Mrs. Thompson was silent for a moment.“I’ve never rightly understood about your Cousin Julian,”
