A resolute-looking little woman faced Betty as she crossed the threshold of the door of the new neighbour. Betty carefully deposited Eva on one of the boxes which littered the floor and explained her presence.  
"It was kind of you to bring her back. Pussie has a sad trick of poking in her nose where she's not wanted," said Eva's mother; but the child, restored to confidence, raised indignant protest.
 
"Boy does want me; he wants me for a chum, mummy, and I think he's nice! Just look at him."
 
Betty watched the grave little face soften into a smile as the eyes rested first on Eva and then on Jack, who stood shyly in the doorway.
 
"We are neighbours, then," she said, ignoring Eva's words. She was clearly a woman who would commit herself to no promise that she might not be able to keep.
 
"My father, Mr. Treherne, owns the farm close by. Jack is his little grandson," said Betty simply, "and I'm his only daughter."
 
"And my name is Kenyon. Come along, Eva; we'll leave all this alone until after tea, and when you're in bed I must straighten things a bit," said Mrs. Kenyon as Betty turned to go.
 
The voice was tired, and an English voice. The speaker, still young, for she certainly was well under thirty, inspired Betty with the feeling that she had had a hard fight with the world.
 
"Won't you come back to supper with us? I know mother will be glad to see you, and it's hard to get things comfortable on the first night in a new house."
 
"Comfortable!" echoed Mrs. Kenyon, with a note of scorn in her voice. "It will be days before we can be that. The house has been standing empty for a long time apparently, and needs soap and water in every corner of it. I should like to send it to the wash, but as that can't be done I must wash it myself, every inch of it. I took it because it was cheap!"
 
"Will you come, then," said Betty again.
 
"I beg your pardon. You'll think English manners defective, but I'm so tired I can hardly think of what I'm saying. No, there is so much to be done I think I will stay here, thanking you all the same for asking us." So Betty said no more, and taking Jack's hand walked quickly down the road. Jack chattered all the way about Eva.
 
"D'you think she'll be my chum, Aunt Betty?"
 
"We'll wait and see, Jackie, and don't be in too great a hurry. She'll want you all the more if you don't seem too keen to have her," answered Betty, smiling, giving the little boy his first lesson in worldly wisdom.
 
But the thought of the tired face haunted kind Betty as she sat down to supper. She told her mother something of the new neighbour.
 
"She's such a decided, determined look and manner, mother. She's been pretty, and she's rather pretty still, only her face has grown hard, as if she'd had a lot of trouble. She's young to be a widow."
 
"What makes you think she's a widow? She did not tell you so."
 
"There's no sign of a man about the place; she clearly has to fend for herself, and to English people it's hard work. They're not brought up to be useful!"
 
Mrs. Treherne laughed. "She's English, then."
 
"Yes, she said so, and she's proud and independent; but I think when Jack is in bed I'll risk the chance of a snub, and go and see what I can do for her."
 
An hour later Betty stood again before Mrs. Kenyon's door. From the inner room came a sound of singing, and through the half-opened door Betty caught a glimpse of a little bed that stood in the corner, over which Mrs. Kenyon bent tenderly soothing Eva to sleep with her soft lullaby.
 
"She has one tender spot in her heart, anyway," thought Betty, giving a little cough to proclaim her presence. Mrs. Kenyon turned and came toward her on tip-toe, drawing the door of her bedroom gently to behind her.
 
"Eva was excited and would not go to sleep. I don't generally spoil her like that, but she's off now as sound as a top."
 
"I've come to help you for an hour or two if you will have me."
 
Mrs. Kenyon's bright eyes scanned Betty from head to foot.
 
"It's not everyone that I could accept help from, but I'll be glad of it from you."
 
So the two worked side by side with a will and with scarcely a word exchanged between them. They shifted boxes, placed furniture in temporary safety against the walls, but to Betty fell the lion's share of the lifting.
 
"I don't know how you do it; you're as strong as a man," said Mrs. Kenyon, subsiding into a chair for a moment's rest.
 
"We're made so out here; for one thing we are accustomed to use our muscles from the moment we can walk. We don't—have our shoes buttoned up for us," with a sly glance at her companion.
 
Mrs. Kenyon gave a short laugh. "Nor have I since I came out here. Since I married I learned the way to clean them. That's six years ago, and for three years I've made the child's living and my own. It has not been a bed of roses. I tried various methods, was lady-help and so on; but now I'm a dressmaker, and that not only pays better, but leaves me free to keep a little home of my own. I hope the people in the township need a dressmaker."
 
"Indeed they do if you are willing to work in the house. The only woman we can get is engaged weeks beforehand, and then as often as not fails one at the last minute. If you are good I believe you will hardly have a day free."
 
"That's good hearing, but they must accept Eva with me. I can't leave her, you see. Turn her into the garden and she is as independent as a puppy. I think I am good at sewing! As a girl at home I made most of my own gowns and was often asked the name of my dressmaker. I decided to come here as someone I met told me there was a good opening."
 
Betty's eyes rested thoughtfully on the speaker The dusk gave her courage to express her thought.
 
"I almost wonder you did not go home. You're not really fitted for a fight with life."
 
Mrs. Kenyon's chin lifted. "I chose my lot and will abide by it."
 
Betty knew she had been guilty of an impertinence in trying to probe beneath the surface, and rose to go.
 
"You'll go to bed now; you won't try to do anything more when I'm gone," she pleaded.
 
"No, I'll go to bed chiefly because I must."
 
"And to-morrow won't be a busy day with me; you'll let me come again?"
 
"Surely yes, and thank you for your kindness. It's been more than manual help; you've heartened me up; you're so splendidly happy. Your very step has happiness in it. It must be because you're so strong."
 
But there Mrs. Kenyon erred, for Betty's happiness lay rather in the fact that quite unconsciously she brought happiness to all about her.
 
The next morning Jack, sent on a message to the township, sauntered leisurely past the opposite side of the lane from Eva's home, casting one furtive glance to see if she were anywhere in sight, and then conscious of a rosy face flattened against the gate, went on with his eyes held steadily in front of him. Of course if a little girl did not want to be a big boy's chum—Jack was too young to finish the sentiment, but a lump of disappointment rose to his throat and a sudden impulse made him take to his heels and fly, casting never a backward look.
 
He was not long gone, for Aunt Betty's orders had been peremptory. She was pressed for time and there must be no loitering by the way. He saw that Eva had pushed open the gate and was wandering down the lane towards the entrance to the paddock, a bright spot of colour in her little red overall. The green road extended beyond Mr. Treherne's land to another farm some distance further on, and from the far end of it Jack saw a young bullock trotting in Eva's direction. Quite used to animals and wholly unafraid of them this usually would not have been worthy of remark, but he recognised this animal as dangerous and perfectly unamenable to training. Only yesterday he had stood by, an excited spectator, whilst his grandfather and uncle had been assisting their neighbour in his efforts to bring the bullock into subjection, but it had proved so wild and vicious that it had been driven into a paddock by itself until its owner could decide what to do with it.
 
"Best get rid of it," Mr. Treherne advised, "get rid of it before it gets you into trouble. The creature is not safe."
 
And Mr. Marks, his neighbour, slept upon the advice and waked in the morning determined to act upon it, so he and his son after much difficulty had succeeded in roping the bullock's horns and between them were going to lead it down to the township to the butcher, but as the farmer opened the gate which led into the lane he relaxed his hold for a moment and the bullock broke away and was advancing with rapid trot and lowered horns towards the tempting spot of colour in front of it.
 
All this Jack took in at a glance and his one thought was Eva's danger. There was yet some little distance between her and the angry beast, and he ran rapidly towards her shouting as he ran.
 
"Run, Eva, run back home; the bullock isn't safe."
 
The child, startled by the call, looked round, saw the animal bearing down upon her and with a howl of terror turned to fly, but her foot tripped in a rut and she fell face downwards to the ground, roaring lustily. There was no time to pick her up and console her so, little Jack sped past her determined to put his small person between her and the enemy. Behind he saw the farmer and his son in hot pursuit. A moment's delay and the danger would be averted, but Jack was far too young to argue out the matter in cool blood.
 
All he felt was the necessity of preventing the bullock from reaching Eva, and the spirit inherited from his father made him try to shield her. But the bullock was dashing towards him with lowered horns and wild eyes, and Jack with the instinct of self-preservation raised his arms and threw the parcel he carried straight at its forehead; the bag broke with the force of the blow and the flour it contained came pothering out, blinding and confusing the angry animal. For a moment it stayed its onward course, tossing its head to rid itself of the intolerable dust, and that moment saved the situation, for Farmer Marks, who had taken a short cut across another paddock, came bounding over the fence with his stock-whip in hand and with a tremendous shout and resounding crack of his whip, caused the bullock to turn back and plunge madly towards the field from which it had escaped. It was driven into a far corner, and the gate by which it had escaped was made doubly fast.
 
"And this afternoon it must be dealt with if I have to put a bullet into it," said the farmer to his son, "but upon my word it was a near shave with the little lad. I never saw a pluckier stand in my life."
 
Then he hastened back to see what had happened to Jack, and was considerably concerned to see Mrs. Kenyon kneeling on the road by his side, and a grave fear filled him lest, after all, the beast should have gored the boy; but nothing more serious had occurred than that Jack, having nerved himself up to the effort of turning the animal from its course, had suffered from nervous collapse and fainted. Eva, the danger over, had picked herself up and come trotting towards him, had caught sight of his closed eyes and white face and had rushed screaming to the house to fetch her mother, crying that a great big bull had rushed at Jack and he was deaded, deaded in the road, which alarming information had brought Mrs. Kenyon at full speed to the rescue. And there Farmer Marks found her chafing the boy's hands and trying to restore consciousness.
 
"I'll carry him to your place where you can took after him better," he said, stooping to lift the boy with rough tenderness, and as he carried him he told the story of Jack's plucky defence of the child that was smaller than he.
 
"You may blame me," he said, "as I should have blamed myself to my dying day if anything had happened to either of them, but after all the thing was an accident. I was acting on Treherne's advice and taking the creature to be put out of harm's way. That it broke from me so suddenly was scarcely my fault. I can only assure you it won't happen again."
 
"I'm much too thankful a woman to blame anyone," said Mrs. Kenyon, her bright eyes dimmed with tears. "He's coming to, I think; leave him to me, and will you let the Trehernes know that he is here and safe?"
 
Jack's eyes opened and he looked round him with a puzzled air.
 
"What's happened? Where's Aunt Betty? I'm all wet," he said.
 
"It's only a little water I sprinkled on your face," answered Mrs. Kenyon, seized with an insane desire to laugh.
 
Then, moved by a passion of emotion that swept over her like a flood, she took the little boy in her arms and covered him with kisses.
 
Jack struggled for freedom, not best pleased with this outburst of affection from a stranger.
 
"I think, please, now I'll get up and go home to Aunt Betty," he said, but as he spoke the door opened and Aunt Betty with a halo of ruffled hair fringing her forehead came towards him, an undefined fear written in her eyes.
 
"Jack, Jack, my darling!" was all she said.
 
Jack held out his arms to her, his face all quivering with the relief of her presence, and to his own great annoyance began to cry. The shock to his system was finding a natural outlet, and he was the only person that regretted the tears.
 
He was far from feeling a hero as Betty took him home, for Aunt Betty was always a little vexed with him when he cried.
 
"I didn't mean to cry; I didn't really. My head aches and I feel rather sick. You don't think me a baby, Aunt Betty?"
 
Betty's smile was radiant with secret exultation and pride.
 
"Not a baby a bit, Jack, but a jolly brave little nipper who can be trusted to look after any little girl left to his care. Eva will be chums with you after this you may be quite sure, and Eva's mother will feel sure that she will come to no harm with you."
 
She felt Jack fully deserved this amount of praise, but at the farm very little more was said about the adventure.
 
"I should hate him to be made into a sort of hero though he is one," she said to Jack's grandmother. "There is not one little boy in a hundred that would have kept his head and known what to do."
 
So Jack went about the rest of the day a little whiter and quieter than usual, but when night came, and Aunt Betty had tucked him into bed after hearing him say his prayers, he showed some reluctance to let her go, and for once she humoured him and sat down by him for a few minutes.
 
"It seems—as if something were rushing at me," he said, half ashamed to voice his imaginings.
 
"There's nothing rushing at you really. It's a trick your tired head is playing on you," said Betty soothingly.
 
"A great big head with horns and eyes that burn," went on Jack, "a giant's head."
 
Betty laughed, such a happy contented laugh. "If a giant at all, Jack, it was like one of the giants father told you about. You frightened the big head more than it frightened you. Such a funny thing to do! to throw a bag of flour at the bullock; throwing dust in its eyes with a vengeance, and by the time it got over its surprise it turned round and thought better of it and went back again."
 
It all sounded so simple and wholesome, that Jack joined in Aunt Betty's laughter.
 
"It was just because I had nothing else to throw. Do you think father would say I'd frightened a giant."
 
"He might," said Betty guardedly, "but I know what I must say, that you must go to sleep as quickly as you can. You are a very tired little boy to-night. Good night, dear boy. I'll leave the door open so that if that naughty head does not stop aching you can give me a call."
 
"He's not a bit himself to-night; he's just a bundle of nerves. I do hope it won't make him timid in future," she said a little anxiously as she rejoined the family in the verandah.
 
"Not a bit of it," said her father, taking his pipe from his mouth. "I can tell you from practical experience it's not a pleasant feeling to see a creature with horns making a dead set at you. No wonder the child is upset, but in the morning he'll forget all about it."
 
And Mr. Treherne was right. The only lasting effect of little Jack's adventure was a grave sense of responsibility when he and Eva were together, for she was a girl to be protected and cared for.