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In a way they had relented towards her, but their shame of her remained. They could never forget that she was an actress. Once, six years after Joscelyn had left Spring Valley, Cyrus, who was reading a paper by the table, got up with an angry exclamation and stuffed it into the stove, thumping the lid on over it with grim malignity. "That fool dunno what he's talking about," was all he would say.
William flounced out of the kitchen, Jordan took his satisfaction in a quiet laugh. Up-stairs in the little room was a great glory of sunset and gladness of human hearts. Joscelyn was kneeling by the bed, with her arms about Aunty Nan; and Aunty Nan, with her face all irradiated, was stroking Joscelyn's dark hair fondly. "O, little Joscelyn," she murmured, "it seems too good to be true.
Joscelyn was not in the kitchen, but the grandmother heard the sound of voices and laughter in the sitting room across the hall. "What company has Josie got?" she wondered, as she opened the hall door and paused for a moment on the threshold to listen. As she listened her old face grew grey and pinched; she turned noiselessly and left the house, and flew to her husband as one distracted.
He had certainly braced his nerves to behold some mystery of iniquity; instead he saw an old kitchen so like his own at home that it bewildered him; and there, sitting by the cheery wood stove, in homespun gown, with primly braided hair, was Joscelyn his girl Josie, as he had seen her a thousand times by his own ingle-side.
She recalled it all tenderly the peace and beauty and love of that olden summer, and sweet Aunty Nan, so very wise in the lore of all things simple and good and true. For the moment Joscelyn Burnett was a lonely, hungry-hearted little girl again, seeking for love and finding it not, until Aunty Nan had taken her into her great mother-heart and taught her its meaning.
The south transept contains a tablet in memory of William Cunnington , to whose researches the antiquaries of Wiltshire owe a great deal of their information. This church was made collegiate by Bishop Joscelyn in the twelfth century. Heytesbury Hospital was founded by Lord Treasurer Hungerford, whose badge, two sickles, may be seen over the entrance.
Joscelyn went but she left consternation behind her. Cyrus and Deborah could not have been more shocked if they had discovered the girl robbing her grandfather's desk. They talked the matter over bitterly at the kitchen hearth that night. "We haven't been strict enough with the girl, Mother," said Cyrus angrily. "We'll have to be stricter if we don't want to have her disgracing us.
Please give me my book." "No," was the stern reply. "Go to your room, girl, and take off that rig. There is to be no more play-acting in my house, remember that." He flung the book into the fire that was burning in the grate. For the first time in her life Joscelyn flamed out into passionate defiance. "You are cruel and unjust, Grandfather.
In her secret soul, Aunty Nan, sweet and frail and timid under the burden of her seventy years, felt with mysterious unmistakable prescience that it was to be her last summer at the Gull Point Farm. But that was only the more reason why she should go to hear little Joscelyn sing; she would never have another chance.
Jordan gazed about him in amazement. He had never been in any place like this before. The hall was wonderful enough, and through the open doors on either hand stretched vistas of lovely rooms that, to Jordan's eyes, looked like those of a palace. "Gee whiz! How do they ever move around without knocking things over?" Then Joscelyn Burnett came, and Jordan forgot everything else.
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