Mr.John Heron is your natural guardian; but though that is so, I will ask you to remember that I claim the privilege of being your father's friend and yours, and that in any trouble you will be but honouring that privilege when you come to me for advice and assistance." His voice was almost inaudible before he had finished, and Ida, down whose cheek tears were running for the first time, extended both hands in mute but eloquent gratitude.

They had both forgotten Mr.John Heron's presence but were reminded of it by something between a cough and a sniff from him; and at a glance from Mr.Wordley, Ida turned to the gaunt figure and held out her hand.
"Thank you," she said in a low voice, "I will come with you and stay with you until--until--I can find something to do, something at which I can earn my own living.

Surely there must be something I can do ?" She turned to Mr.Wordley with a little anxious, eager gesture.

"I am strong--very strong; I have managed Herondale--I can ride, and--and understand a farm.

I am never tired.