1 files changed, 11458 insertions, 0 deletions

diff --git a/29945.txt b/29945.txt
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..1e196af
--- /dev/null
+++ b/29945.txt
@@ -0,0 +1,11458 @@
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Jan and Her Job, by L. Allen Harker
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Jan and Her Job
+
+Author: L. Allen Harker
+
+Release Date: September 9, 2009 [EBook #29945]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK JAN AND HER JOB ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Robert Cicconetti, S.D., and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This
+file was produced from images generously made available
+by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.)
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+JAN AND HER JOB
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: "But surely," said Peter, "I _am_ your job--part of it,
+anyway."]
+
+
+
+
+JAN AND HER JOB
+
+BY
+
+L. ALLEN HARKER
+
+AUTHOR OF "A ROMANCE OF THE NURSERY"; "MISS ESPERANCE AND MR. WYCHERLY";
+"MR. WYCHERLY'S WARDS"; "THE FFOLLIOTS OF REDMARLEY," ETC.
+
+ILLUSTRATED
+
+NEW YORK
+
+CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS
+
+1917
+
+
+Copyright, 1917, by
+Charles Scribner's Sons
+
+***
+
+Published March, 1917
+
+
+                       TO
+
+                    F. R. P.
+
+  "_Chary of praise and prodigal of counsel--
+    Who but thou?_"
+                                R. L. S.
+
+
+
+
+_CONTENTS_
+
+
+  CHAPTER                                               PAGE
+
+      I. JAN                                               1
+
+     II. JAN'S MAIL                                       13
+
+    III. BOMBAY                                           19
+
+     IV. THE BEGINNING OF THE JOB                         39
+
+      V. THE CHILDREN                                     52
+
+     VI. THE SHADOW BEFORE                                62
+
+    VII. THE HUMAN TOUCH                                  78
+
+   VIII. THE END OF THE DREAM                             91
+
+     IX. MEG                                              97
+
+      X. PLANS                                           124
+
+     XI. THE STATE OF PETER                              139
+
+    XII. "THE BEST-LAID SCHEMES"                         149
+
+   XIII. THE WHEELS OF CHANCE                            162
+
+    XIV. PERPLEXITIES                                    173
+
+     XV. WREN'S END                                      184
+
+    XVI. "THE BLUDGEONINGS OF CHANCE"                    201
+
+   XVII. "THOUGH AN HOST SHOULD ENCAMP AGAINST
+           ME"                                           212
+
+  XVIII. MEG AND CAPTAIN MIDDLETON                       220
+
+    XIX. THE YOUNG IDEA                                  240
+
+     XX. "ONE WAY OF LOVE"                               252
+
+    XXI. ANOTHER WAY OF LOVE                             261
+
+   XXII. THE ENCAMPMENT                                  276
+
+  XXIII. TACTICS                                         287
+
+   XXIV. "THE WAY OF A MAN WITH A MAID"                  303
+
+    XXV. A DEMONSTRATION IN FORCE                        325
+
+   XXVI. IN WHICH SEVERAL PEOPLE SPEAK THEIR MINDS       339
+
+  XXVII. AUGUST, 1914                                    351
+
+
+
+
+_ILLUSTRATIONS_
+
+
+  "But surely," said Peter, "I _am_ your job--part of it,
+      anyway"                                 _Frontispiece_
+
+                                                      FACING
+                                                       PAGE
+
+  "It would make it easier for both of us if you'd face it,
+      my dear"                                            66
+
+  He washed his small sister with thoroughness and despatch,
+      pointing out ... that he "went into all the
+      corners"                                           156
+
+  William rushed out to welcome the strangers. Two ...
+      nice children                                      188
+
+
+
+
+JAN AND HER JOB
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+JAN
+
+
+She was something of a puzzle to the other passengers. They couldn't
+quite place her. She came on board the P. and O. at Marseilles. Being
+Christmas week the boat was not crowded, and she had a cabin to herself
+on the spar deck, so there was no "stable-companion" to find out
+anything about her.
+
+The sharp-eyed Australian lady, who sat opposite her at the Purser's
+table, decided that she was not married, or even engaged, as she wore no
+rings of any kind. Besides, her name, "Miss Janet Ross," figured in the
+dinner-list and was plainly painted on her deck-chair. At meals she sat
+beside the Purser, and seemed more or less under his wing. People at her
+table decided that she couldn't be going out as a governess or she would
+hardly be travelling first class, and yet she did not look of the sort
+who globe-trot all by themselves.
+
+Rather tall, slender without being thin, she moved well. Her ringless
+hands were smooth and prettily shaped, so were her slim feet, and always
+singularly well-shod.
+
+Perhaps her chief outward characteristic was that she looked
+delightfully fresh and clean. Her fair skin helped to this effect, and
+the trim suitability of her clothes accentuated it. And yet there was
+nothing challenging or particularly noticeable in her personality.
+
+Her face, fresh-coloured and unlined, was rather round. Her eyes
+well-opened and blue-grey, long-sighted and extremely honest. Her hair,
+thick and naturally wavy, had been what hairdressers call "mid-brown,"
+but was now frankly grey, especially round the temples; and the grey
+hair puzzled people, so that opinions differed widely regarding her age.
+
+The five box-wallahs (gentlemen engaged in commercial pursuits are so
+named in the East to distinguish them from the Heaven-Born in the
+various services that govern India), who, with the Australian lady, sat
+opposite to her at table, decided that she was really young and
+prematurely grey. Between the courses they diligently took stock of her.
+The Australian lady disagreed with them. She declared Miss Ross to be
+middle-aged, to look younger than she was. In this the Australian lady
+was quite sincere. She could not conceive of any _young_ woman
+neglecting the many legitimate means that existed of combating this most
+distressing semblance--if semblance it was--of age.
+
+The Australian lady set her down as a well-preserved forty at least.
+
+Mr. Frewellen, the oldest and crossest and greediest of the five
+box-wallahs, declared that he would lay fifteen rupees to five annas
+that she was under thirty; that her eyes were sad, and it was probably
+trouble that had turned her hair. At his time of life, he could tell a
+young woman when he saw one. No painted old harridan could deceive
+_him_. After all, if Miss Ross _had_ grey hair, she had plenty of it,
+and it was her own. But Mr. Frewellen, who sat directly opposite her,
+was prejudiced in her favour, for she always let him take her roll if it
+was browner than his own. He also took her knife if it happened to be
+sharper than the one he had, and he insisted on her listening to his
+incessant grumbling as to the food, the service, the temperature, and
+the general imbecility and baseness of his fellow-creatures.
+
+Like the Ancient Mariner, he held her with his glittering spectacles.
+Miss Ross trembled before his diatribes. He spoke in a loud and rumbling
+voice, and made derogatory remarks about the other passengers as they
+passed to their respective tables. She would thankfully have changed
+hers, but that it might have seemed ungrateful to the Purser, into whose
+charge she had been given by friends; and the Purser had been most kind
+and attentive.
+
+The Australian lady was sure that the Purser knew more about Miss Ross
+than he would acknowledge--which he did. But when tackled by one
+passenger about another, he was discreet or otherwise in direct ratio to
+what he considered was the discretion of the questioner. And he was a
+pretty shrewd judge of character. He had infinite opportunities of so
+judging. A sea-voyage lays bare many secrets and shows up human nature
+at its starkest.
+
+Janet Ross did not seek to make friends, but kindly people who spoke to
+her found her pleasant and not in the least disposed to be mysterious
+when questioned, though she never volunteered any information about
+herself. She was a good listener, and about the middle of any voyage
+that is a quality supplying a felt want. Mankind in general finds his
+own doings very interesting, and takes great pleasure in recounting the
+same. Even the most energetic young passenger cannot play deck-quoits
+all day, and mixed cricket matches are too heating to last long once
+Aden is left behind. A great many people found it pleasant to drop into
+a chair beside the quiet lady, who was always politely interested in
+their remarks. She looked so cool and restful in her white frock and
+shady hat. She did _not_ buy a solar topee at Port Said, for though this
+was her first voyage she had not, it seemed, started quite unwarned.
+
+In the middle of the Indian Ocean she suddenly found favour in the eyes
+of Sir Langham Sykes, and when that was the case Sir Langham proclaimed
+his preference to the whole ship. No one who attracted his notice could
+remain in obscurity. When he was not eating he was talking, generally
+about himself, though he was also fond of asking questions.
+
+A short, stout man with a red face, little fierce blue eyes, a booming
+voice, noisy laugh and a truculent, domineering manner, Sir Langham
+made his presence felt wherever he was.
+
+It was "her shape," as he called it, that first attracted his attention
+to Miss Ross, as he watched her walking briskly round and round the
+hurricane-deck for her morning constitutional.
+
+"That woman moves well," he remarked to his neighbour; "wonder if she's
+goin' out to be married. Nice-looking woman and pleasant, no frills
+about her--sort that would be kind in illness."
+
+And Sir Langham sighed. He couldn't take any exercise just then, for his
+last attack of gout had been very severe, and his left foot was still
+swathed and slippered.
+
+There was a dance that night on the hurricane-deck, and Sir Langham,
+while watching the dancers, talked at the top of his voice with the more
+important lady passengers. On such occasions he claimed close intimacy
+with the Reigning House, and at all times of day one heard such
+sentences as, "And _I_ said to the Princess Henrietta," with a full
+account of what he did say. And the things he declared he said, and the
+stories he told, certainly suggested a doubt as to whether the ladies of
+our Royal Family are quite as strait-laced as the ordinary public is led
+to believe. But then one had only Sir Langham's word for it. There was
+no possibility of questioning the Princess.
+
+Presently Sir Langham got tired of trying to drown the band--it was such
+a noisy band--and he hobbled down the companion on to the almost
+deserted deck. Right up in the stern he spied Miss Ross, quite alone,
+sitting under an electric light absorbed in a book. Beside her was an
+empty chair with a comfortable leg-rest. Sir Langham never made any
+bones about interrupting people. It would not, to him, have seemed
+possible that a woman could prefer any form of literature to the charm
+of his conversation. So with a series of grunts he lowered himself into
+it, arranged his foot upon the rest, and, without asking permission, lit
+a cigar.
+
+"Don't you care for dancin'?" he asked.
+
+She closed her book. "Oh, yes," she said, "but I don't know many men on
+board, and there are such a lot of young people who do know one another.
+It's pretty to watch them; but the night is pretty, too, don't you
+think? The stars all seem so near compared to what they do at home."
+
+"I've seen too many Eastern nights to take much stock in 'em now," he
+said in a disparaging voice. "I take it this is all new to you--first
+voyage, eh?"
+
+"Yes, I've never been a long voyage before."
+
+"Goin' to India, I suppose. You'd have started sooner if you'd been
+goin' for the winter to Australia. Now what are you goin' to India
+_for_?"
+
+"To stay with my sister."
+
+"Married sister?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Older than you, then, of course."
+
+"No, younger."
+
+"Much younger?"
+
+"Three years."
+
+"Is she like you?"
+
+"Not in the least. She is a beautiful person."
+
+"Been married long?"
+
+"Between five and six years. I'm to take her home at the end of the cold
+weather."
+
+"Any kids?"
+
+"Two."
+
+"And you haven't been out before?"
+
+"No; this is my first visit."
+
+"She's been home, I suppose?"
+
+"Yes, once."
+
+"Is her husband in the Army?"
+
+"No."
+
+Had Sir Langham been an observant person he would have noted that her
+very brief replies did not exactly encourage further questions. But his
+idea of conversation was either a monologue or a means of obtaining
+information, so he instantly demanded, "What does her husband do?"
+
+The impulse of the moment urged her to reply, "What possible business is
+it of yours _what_ he does?" But well-bred people do not yield to these
+impulses, so she answered quietly, "He's in the P.W.D."
+
+"Not a bad service, not a bad service, though not equal to the I.C.S.
+They've had rather a scandal in it lately. Didn't you see about it in
+the papers just before we left?"
+
+At that moment Sir Langham was very carefully flicking the ash from the
+end of his cigar, otherwise he might have observed that as he spoke his
+companion flushed. A wave of warm colour surged over her face and bare
+neck and receded again, leaving her very pale. Her hands closed over the
+book lying in her lap, as if glad to hold on to something, and their
+knuckles were white against the tan.
+
+"Didn't you see it?" he repeated. "Some chap been found to have taken
+bribes over contracts in a native state. Regular rumpus there's been.
+Quite right, too; we sahibs must have clean hands. No dealing with brown
+people if you haven't clean hands--can't have rupees sticking to 'em in
+any Government transactions. Expect you'll hear all about it when you
+get out there--makes a great sensation in any service does that sort of
+thing. I don't remember the name of the chap--perhaps they didn't give
+it--do you?"
+
+"I didn't see anything about it," she said quietly. "I was very busy
+just before I left, and hardly looked at a paper."
+
+"Where is your sister?"
+
+"In Bombay."
+
+"Oh, got a billet there, has he? Expect you'll like Bombay; cheery
+place, in the cold weather, but not a patch on Calcutta, to my mind. I
+hear the Governor and his wife do the thing in style--hospitable, you
+know; got private means, as people in that position always ought to
+have."
+
+"I don't suppose I shall go out at all," she said. "My sister is ill,
+and I've got to look after her. Directly she is strong enough to travel
+I shall bring her home."
+
+"Oh, you _must_ see something of the social life of the place while
+you're there. D'you know what I thought? I thought you were goin' out to
+get married, and"--he continued gallantly--"I thought he was a deuced
+lucky chap."
+
+She smiled and shook her head. She was not looking at Sir Langham, but
+at the long, white, moonlit pathway of foam left in the wake of the
+ship.
+
+"I say," he went on confidentially, "what's your Christian name? I'm
+certain they don't call you Janet. Is it Nettie, now? I bet it's
+Nettie!"
+
+"My _family_," said Miss Ross somewhat coldly, "call me Jan."
+
+"Nice little name," he exclaimed, "but more like a boy's. Now, I never
+got a pet name. I started Langham, and Langham I've stopped, and I
+flatter myself I've made the name known and respected."
+
+He wanted her to look at him, and leaned towards her: "Look here, Miss
+Ross, I'm goin' to ask you a funny question, and it's not one you can
+ask most women--but you're a puzzle. You've got a face like a child, and
+yet you're as grey as a badger. What _is_ your age?"
+
+"I shall be twenty-eight in March."
+
+She looked at him then, and her grey eyes were so full of amusement
+that, incredulous as he usually was as to other people's statements, he
+knew that she was speaking the truth.
+
+"Then why the devil don't you _do_ something _to_ it?" he demanded.
+
+She laughed. "I couldn't be bothered. And it might turn green, or
+something. I don't mind it. It began when I was twenty-three."
+
+"_I_ don't mind it either," Sir Langham declared magnanimously; "but
+it's misleading."
+
+"I'm sorry," she said demurely. "I wouldn't mislead anyone for the
+world."
+
+"Now, what age should you think _I_ am? But I suppose you know--that's
+the worst of being a public character; when one gets nearly a column in
+_Who's Who_, everybody knows all about one. That's the penalty of
+celebrity."
+
+"Do you mind people knowing your age?"
+
+"Not I! Nor anything else about me. _I've_ never done anything to be
+ashamed of. Quite the other way, I can assure you."
+
+"How pleasant that must be," she said quietly.
+
+Sir Langham turned and looked suspiciously at her; but her face was
+guileless and calm, with no trace of raillery, her eyes still fixed on
+the long bright track of foam.
+
+"I suppose you, now," he muttered hoarsely, "always sleep well, go off
+directly you turn in--eh?"
+
+Her quiet eyes met his; little and fierce and truculent, but behind
+their rather bloodshot boldness there lurked something else, and with a
+sudden pang of pity she knew that it was fear, and that Sir Langham
+dreaded the night.
+
+"As a rule I do," she said gently; "but of course I've known what it is
+to be sleepless, and it's horrid."
+
+"It's hell," said Sir Langham, "and I'm in it every night this voyage,
+for I've knocked off morphia and opiates--they were playing the deuce
+with my constitution, and I've strength of mind for anything when I
+fairly take hold. But it's awful. When d'you suppose natural sleep will
+come back?"
+
+She knew that he did not lack physical courage, that he had fearlessly
+faced great dangers in many outposts of the world; but the demon of
+insomnia had got a hold of Sir Langham, and he dreaded the night
+unspeakably. At that moment there was something pathetic about the
+little, boastful, filibustering man.
+
+"I think you will sleep to-night," she said confidently, "especially if
+you go to bed early."
+
+She half rose as she spoke, but he put his hand on her arm and pressed
+her down in her chair again.
+
+"Don't go yet," he cried. "Keep on tellin' me I'll sleep, and then
+perhaps I shall. You look as if you could will people to do things.
+You're that quiet sort. Will me, there's a good girl. Tell me again I'll
+sleep to-night."
+
+It was getting late; the music had stopped and the dancers had
+disappeared. Miss Ross did not feel over comfortable alone with Sir
+Langham so far away from everybody else. Especially as she saw he was
+excited and nervous. Had he been drinking? she wondered. But she
+remembered that he had proclaimed far and wide that, because of his
+gout, he'd made a vow to touch no form of "alcoholic liquor" on the
+voyage, except on Christmas and New Year's Day. It was six days since
+Christmas, and already Aden was left behind. No, it was just sheer
+nervous excitement, and if she could do him any good....
+
+"I feel sure you will sleep to-night," she said soothingly, "if you will
+do as I tell you."
+
+"I'll do any mortal thing. I've got a deck-cabin to myself. Will you
+keep willin' me when you turn in?"
+
+"Go to bed now," she said firmly. "Undress quickly, and then think about
+nothing ... and I'll do the rest."
+
+"You will, you promise?"
+
+"Yes, but you must keep your mind a perfect blank, or I can't do
+anything."
+
+She stood up tall and straight. The moonlight caught her grey hair and
+burnished it to an aureole of silver.
+
+With many grunts Sir Langham pulled himself out of his chair. "No
+smokin'-room, eh?"
+
+"Good night," Miss Ross said firmly, and left him.
+
+"Don't forget to ask your sister's husband about that chap in the
+P.W.D.," he called after her. "He's sure to know all about it. What's
+his name?--your brother-in-law, I mean."
+
+But Miss Ross had disappeared.
+
+"Now how the devil," he muttered, "am I to make my mind, _my_ mind, a
+perfect blank?"
+
+Two hours later Sir Langham's snores grievously disturbed the occupants
+of adjacent cabins.
+
+In hers, Miss Ross sat by the open porthole reading and re-reading the
+mail that had reached her at Aden.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+JAN'S MAIL
+
+
+                                   _Bombay, December 13th._
+
+      My Dear Jan,
+
+      It was a great relief to get your cable saying definitely
+      that you were sailing by the _Carnduff_. Misfortunes seem
+      to have come upon us in such numbers of late that I dreaded
+      lest your departure might be unavoidably delayed or
+      prevented. I will not now enter into the painful question
+      of my shameful treatment by Government, but you can well
+      understand that I shall leave no stone unturned to reverse
+      their most unfair and unjust decision, and to bring my
+      traducers to book. Important business having reference to
+      these matters calls me away at once, as I feel it is most
+      essential not to lose a moment, my reputation and my whole
+      future being at stake. I shall therefore, to my great
+      regret, be unable to meet you on your arrival in Bombay,
+      and, as my movements for the next few months will be rather
+      uncertain, I may find it difficult to let you have regular
+      news of me. I would therefore advise you to take Fay and
+      the children home as soon as all is safely over and she is
+      able to travel, and I will join you in England if and when
+      I find I can get away. I know, dear Jan, that you will not
+      mind financing Fay to this extent at present; as, owing to
+      these wholly unexpected departmental complications, I am
+      uncommonly hard up. I will, of course, repay you at the
+      earliest possible opportunity.
+
+      Poor Fay is not at all well; all these worries have been
+      very bad for her, and I have been distracted by anxiety on
+      her behalf, as well as about my own most distressing
+      position, and a severe attack of fever has left me weak and
+      ailing. I thought it better to bring Fay down to Bombay,
+      where she can get the best medical advice, and her being
+      there will save you the long, tiresome journey to
+      Dariawarpur. It is also most convenient for going home. She
+      is installed in a most comfortable flat, and we brought our
+      own servants, so I hope you will feel that I have done my
+      best for her.
+
+      Fay will explain the whole miserable business to you, and
+      although appearances may be against me, I trust that you
+      will realise how misleading these may be. I cannot thank
+      you enough for responding so promptly to our ardently
+      expressed desire for your presence at this difficult time.
+      It will make all the difference in the world to Fay; and,
+      on her account, to me also.
+
+      Believe me, always yours affectionately,
+
+                                             HUGO TANCRED.
+
+                                          _Bombay, Friday._
+
+      Jan my dear, my dear, are you really on your way? And shall
+      I see your face and hear your kind voice, and be able to
+      cry against your shoulder?
+
+      I can't meet you, my precious, because I don't go out. I'm
+      afraid. Afraid lest I should see anyone who knew us at
+      Dariawarpur. India is so large and so small, and people
+      from everywhere are always in Bombay, and I couldn't bear
+      it.
+
+      Do you know, Jan, that when the very worst has happened,
+      you get kind of numbed. You can't suffer any more. You
+      can't be sorry or angry or shocked or indignant, or
+      anything but just broken, and that's what I am.
+
+      After all, I've one good friend here who knew us at
+      Dariawarpur. He's got a job at the secretariat, and he
+      tries to help me all he can. I don't mind him somehow. He
+      understands. He will meet you and bring you to the
+      bungalow, so look out for him when the boat gets in. He's
+      tall and thin and clean-shaven and yellow, with a grave,
+      stern face and beautiful kind eyes. Peter is an angel, so
+      be nice to him, Jan dear. It has been awful; it will go on
+      being awful; but it will be a little more bearable when you
+      come--for me, I mean--for you it will be horrid. All of us
+      on your hands, and no money, and me such a crock, and
+      presently a new baby. The children are well. It's so queer
+      to think you haven't seen "little Fay." Come soon, Jan,
+      come soon, to your miserable                    FAY.
+
+Jan sat on her bunk under the open porthole. One after the other she
+held the letters open in her hand and stared at them, but she did not
+read. The sentences were burnt into her brain already.
+
+Hugo Tancred's letter was dated. Fay's was not, and neither letter bore
+any address in Bombay. Now, Jan knew that Bombay is a large town; and
+that people like the Tancreds, who, if not actually in hiding, certainly
+did not seek to draw attention to their movements, would be hard to
+find. Fay had wholly omitted to mention the surname of the tall, thin,
+yellow man with the "grave, stern face and beautiful kind eyes." Even in
+the midst of her poignant anxiety Jan found herself smiling at this. It
+was so like Fay--so like her to give no address. And should the tall,
+thin gentleman fail to appear, what was Jan to do? She could hardly go
+about the ship asking if one "Peter" had come to fetch her.
+
+How would she find Fay?
+
+Would they allow her to wait at the landing-place till someone came, or
+were there stringent regulations compelling passengers to leave the
+docks with the utmost speed, as most of them would assuredly desire to
+do?
+
+She knitted her brows and worried a good deal about this; then suddenly
+put the question from her as too trivial when there were such infinitely
+greater problems to solve.
+
+Only one thing was clear. One central fact shone out, a beacon amidst
+the gloom of the "departmental complications" enshrouding the conduct of
+Hugo Tancred, the certainty that he had, for the present anyway, shifted
+the responsibility of his family from his own shoulders to hers. As she
+sat square and upright under the porthole, with the cool air from an
+inserted "wind-sail" ruffling her hair, she looked as though she braced
+herself to the burden.
+
+She wished she knew exactly what had happened, what Hugo Tancred had
+actually done. For some years she had known that he was by no means
+scrupulous in money matters, and that very evening Sir Langham had made
+it clear to her that this crookedness had not stopped short at his
+official work. There had been a scandal, so far-reaching a scandal that
+it had got into the home papers.
+
+This struck Jan as rather extraordinary, for Hugo Tancred was by no
+means a stupid man.
+
+It is one thing to be pleasantly oblivious of private debts, to omit
+cheques in repayment of various necessaries got at the Stores by an
+obliging sister-in-law. One thing to muddle away in wild-cat
+speculations a wife's money that, but for the procrastination of an
+easy-going father, would have been tightly tied up--quite another to
+bring himself so nearly within the clutches of the law as to make it
+possible for the Government of India to dismiss him.
+
+And what was he to do? What did the future hold for him?
+
+Who would give employment to however able a man with such a career
+behind him?
+
+Jan's imagination refused to take such flights. Resolutely she put the
+subject from her and began to consider what her own best course would be
+with Fay, her nephew and niece, and, very shortly, a new baby on her
+hands.
+
+Jan was not a young woman to let things drift. She had kept house for a
+whimsical, happy-go-lucky father since she was fourteen; mothered her
+beautiful young sister; and, at her father's death, two years before,
+had with quiet decision arranged her own life, wholly avoiding the
+discussion and the friction which generally are the lot of an unmarried
+woman of five-and-twenty left without natural guardians and with a large
+circle of friends and relations.
+
+It was nearly two o'clock when she undressed and went to bed, and before
+that she had drafted two cablegrams--one to a house-agent, the other to
+her bankers.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+BOMBAY
+
+
+For Jan the next two days passed as in a more or less disagreeable
+dream. She could never afterwards recall very clearly what happened,
+except that Sir Langham Sykes seemed absolutely omnipresent, and made
+her, she felt, ridiculous before the whole ship, by proclaiming far and
+wide that she had bestowed upon him the healing gift of sleep.
+
+He was so effusive, so palpably grateful, that she simply could not
+undeceive him by telling him that after they parted the night before she
+had never given him another thought.
+
+When he was not doing this he was pursuing, with fulminations against
+the whole tribe of missionaries, two kindly, quiet members of the
+Society of Friends.
+
+In an evil moment they had gratified his insatiable curiosity as to the
+object of their voyage to India, which was to visit and report upon the
+missionary work of their community. Once he discovered this he never let
+them alone, and the deck resounded with his denunciations of all
+Protestant missionaries as "self-seeking, oily humbugs."
+
+They bore it with well-mannered resignation, and a common dislike for
+Sir Langham formed quite a bond of union between them and Jan.
+
+There was the usual dance on New Year's Eve, the usual singing of "Auld
+Lang Syne" in two huge circles; and Jan would have enjoyed it all but
+for the heavy foreboding in her heart; for she was a simple person who
+responded easily to the emotions of others. Before she could slip away
+to bed Sir Langham cornered her again, conjuring her to "will" him to
+sleep and "to go on doin' it" after they parted in Bombay. He became
+rather maudlin, and she seized the opportunity of telling him that her
+best efforts would be wholly unavailing if he at all relaxed the
+temperate habits, so necessary for the cure of his gout, that he had
+acquired during the voyage. She was stern with Sir Langham, and her
+admonitions had considerable effect. He sought his cabin chastened and
+thoughtful.
+
+The boat was due early in the morning. Jan finished most of her packing
+before she undressed; then, tired and excited, she could not sleep. A
+large cockroach scuttling about her cabin did not tend to calm her
+nerves. She plentifully besprinkled the floor with powdered borax, kept
+the electric light turned on and the fan whirring, and lay down
+wide-awake to wait for the dawn.
+
+The ship was unusually noisy, but just about four o'clock came a new
+sound right outside her porthole--the rush alongside of the boat bearing
+the pilot and strange loud voices calling directions in an unknown
+tongue. She turned out her light (first peering fearfully under her
+berth to make sure no borax-braving cockroach was in ambush) and knelt
+on her bed to look out and watch the boat with its turbaned occupants:
+big brown men, who shouted to one another in a liquid language full of
+mystery.
+
+For a brief space the little boat was towed alongside the great liner,
+then cast off, and presently--far away on the horizon--Jan saw a streak
+of pearly pinkish light, as though the soft blue curtain of the night
+had been lifted just a little; and against that luminous streak were
+hills.
+
+In spite of her anxiety, in spite of her fears as to the future, Jan's
+heart beat fast with pleasurable excitement. She was young and strong
+and eager, and here at last was the real East. A little soft wind
+caressed her tired forehead and she drank in the blessed coolness of the
+early morning.
+
+Both day and night come quickly in the East. Jan got up, had her bath,
+dressed, and by half-past six she was on deck. The dark-blue curtain was
+rolled up, and the scene set was the harbour of Bombay.
+
+Such a gracious haven of strange multi-coloured craft, with its double
+coast-line of misty hills on one side, and clear-cut, high-piled
+buildings, domes and trees upon the other.
+
+A gay white-and-gold launch, with its attendants in scarlet and white,
+came for certain passengers, who were guests of the Governor. The police
+launch, trim and business-like with its cheerful yellow-hatted sepoys,
+came for others. Jan watched these favoured persons depart in stately
+comfort, and went downstairs to get some breakfast. Then came the rush
+of departure by the tender. So many had friends to meet them, and all
+seemed full of pleasure in arrival. Jan was just beginning to feel
+rather forlorn and anxious when the Purser, fussed and over-driven as he
+always is at such times, came towards her, followed by a tall man
+wearing a pith helmet and an overcoat.
+
+"Mr. Ledgard has come to meet you, Miss Ross, so you'll be all right."
+
+It was amazing how easy everything became. Mr. Ledgard's servants
+collected Jan's cabin baggage and took it with them in the tender and,
+on arrival, in a tikka-gharri--the little pony-carriage which is the
+gondola of Bombay--and almost before she quite realised that the voyage
+was over she found herself seated beside Peter in a comfortable
+motor-car, with a cheerful little Hindu chauffeur at the steering-wheel,
+sliding through wide, well-watered streets, still comparatively empty
+because it was so early.
+
+By mutual consent they turned to look at one another, and Jan noted that
+Peter Ledgard _was_ thin and extremely yellow. That his eyes (hollow and
+tired-looking as are the eyes of so many officials in the East) _were_
+kind, and she thought she had never before beheld a firmer mouth or more
+masterful jaw.
+
+What Peter saw evidently satisfied him as to her common sense, for he
+plunged _in medias res_ at once: "How much do you know of this
+unfortunate affair?" he asked.
+
+"Very little," she answered, "and that little extremely vague. Will you
+tell me has Hugo come to total grief or not?"
+
+"Officially, yes. He is finished, done for--may thank his lucky stars
+he's not in gaol. It's well you should know this at the very beginning,
+for of course he won't allow it, and poor Fay--Mrs. Tancred (I'm afraid
+we're rather free-and-easy about Christian names in India)--doesn't know
+the whole facts by a very long way. From what she tells me, I fear he
+has made away with most of her money, too. Was any of it tied up?"
+
+Jan shook her head. "We both got what money there was absolutely on my
+father's death."
+
+"Then," said Peter, "I fear you've got the whole of them on your hands,
+Miss Ross."
+
+"That's what I've come for," Jan said simply, "to take care of Fay and
+the children."
+
+Peter Ledgard looked straight in front of him.
+
+"It's a lot to put on you," he said slowly, "and I'm afraid you'll find
+it a bit more complicated than you expect. Will you remember that I'd
+like to help you all I can?"
+
+Jan looked at the stern profile beside her and felt vaguely comforted.
+"I shall be most grateful for your advice," she said humbly. "I know I
+shall need it."
+
+The motor stopped, and as she stepped from it in front of the tall block
+of buildings, Jan knew that the old easy, straightforward life was over.
+Unconsciously she stiffened her back and squared her shoulders, and
+looked very tall and straight as she stood beside Peter Ledgard in the
+entrance. The pretty colour he had admired when he met her had faded
+from her cheeks, and the face under the shady hat looked grave and
+older.
+
+Peter said something to the smiling lift-man in an extremely dirty dhoti
+who stood salaaming in the entrance.
+
+"I won't come up now," he said to Jan. "Please tell Mrs. Tancred I'll
+look in about tea-time."
+
+As Jan entered the lift and vanished from his sight, Peter reflected,
+"So that's the much-talked-of Jan! Well, I'm not surprised Fay wanted
+her."
+
+The lift stopped. An elderly white-clad butler stood salaaming at an
+open door, and Jan followed him.
+
+A few steps through a rather narrow passage and she was in a large light
+room opening on to a verandah, and in the centre stood her sister Fay,
+with outstretched arms.
+
+A pathetic, inarticulate, worn and faded Fay: her pretty freshness
+dimmed. A Fay with dark circles round her hollow eyes and all the living
+light gone from her abundant fair hair. It was as though her face was
+covered by an impalpable grey mask.
+
+There was no doubt about it. Fay looked desperately ill. Ill in a way
+not to be accounted for by her condition.
+
+Clinging together they sat down on an immense sofa, exchanging trivial
+question and answer as to the matters ordinary happy folk discuss when
+they first meet after a long absence. Jan asked for the children, who
+had not yet returned from their early morning walk with the ayah. Fay
+asked about the voyage and friends at home, and told Jan she had got
+dreadfully grey; then kissed her and leant against her just as she used
+to do when they were both children and she needed comfort.
+
+Jan said nothing to Fay about _her_ looks, and neither of them so much
+as mentioned Hugo Tancred. But Jan felt a wild desire to get away by
+herself and cry and cry over this sad wraith of the young sister whose
+serene and happy beauty had been the family pride.
+
+And yet she was so essentially the same Fay, tender and loving and
+inconsequent, and full of pretty cares for Jan's comfort.
+
+The dining-room was behind the sitting-room, with only a curtain
+between, and as they sat at breakfast Fay was so eager Jan should
+eat--she ate nothing herself--so anxious lest she should not like the
+Indian food, that poor Jan, with a lump in her throat that choked her at
+every morsel, forced down the carefully thought-out breakfast and meekly
+accepted everything presented by the grey-haired turbaned butler who
+bent over her paternally and offered every dish much as one would tempt
+a shy child with some amusing toy.
+
+Presently Fay took her to see her room, large, bare and airy, with
+little furniture save the bed with its clean white mosquito curtains
+placed under the electric fan in the centre of the ceiling. Outside the
+window was a narrow balcony, and Jan went there at once to look out; and
+though her heart was so heavy she was fain to exclaim joyfully at the
+beauty of the view.
+
+Right opposite, across Back Bay, lay the wooded villa-crowned slopes of
+Malabar Hill, flung like a garland on the bosom of a sea deeply blue and
+smiling, smooth as a lake, while below her lay the pageant of the
+street, with its ever-changing panorama of vivid life. The whole so
+brilliant, so various, so wholly unlike any beautiful place she had ever
+seen before that, artist's daughter she was, she cried eagerly to Fay,
+"Oh, come and look! Did you ever see anything so lovely? How Dad would
+have rejoiced in this!"
+
+Fay followed slowly: "I thought you'd like it," she said, evidently
+pleased by Jan's enthusiasm, "that's why I gave you this room. Look,
+Jan! There are the children coming, those two over by the band-stand.
+They see us. _Do_ wave to them."
+
+The children were still a long way off. Jan could only see an ayah in
+her white draperies pushing a little go-cart with a child in it, and a
+small boy trotting by her side, but she waved as she was bidden.
+
+The room had evidently at one time been used as a nursery, for inside
+the stone balustrade was a high trellis of wood. Jan and Fay were both
+tall women, but even on them the guarding trellis came right up to their
+shoulders. Neither of them could really lean over, though Fay tried, in
+her eagerness to attract the attention of the little group. Jan watched
+her sister's face and again felt that cruel constriction of the throat
+that holds back tears. Fay's tired eyes were so sad, so out of keeping
+with the cheerful movement of her hand, so shadowed by some knowledge
+she could not share.
+
+"You mustn't stand here without a hat," she said, turning to go in. "The
+sun is getting hot. You must get a topee this afternoon. Peter will take
+you and help to choose it."
+
+"Couldn't you come, if we took a little carriage? Does driving tire you
+when it's cool?" Jan asked as she followed her sister back into the
+room.
+
+"I never go out," Fay said decidedly. "I never shall again ... I mean,"
+she added, "till it's all over. I couldn't bear it just now--I might
+meet someone I know."
+
+"But, Fay, it's very bad for you to be always indoors. Surely, in the
+early morning or the evening--you'll come out then?"
+
+Fay shook her head. "Peter has taken me out in the motor once or twice
+at night--but I don't really like it. It makes me so dreadfully tired.
+Don't worry me about that, Jan. I get plenty of air in the verandah.
+It's just as pretty there as in your balcony, and we can have
+comfortable chairs. Let's go there now. _You_ shall go out as much as
+you like. I'll send Lalkhan with you, or Ayah and the children; and
+Peter will take you about all he can--he promised he would. Don't think
+I want to be selfish and keep you here with me all the time."
+
+The flat, weak voice, so nervous, so terrified lest her stronger sister
+should force her to some course of action she dreaded, went to Jan's
+heart.
+
+"My dear," she said gently, "I haven't come here to rush about. I've
+come to be with you. We'll do exactly what you like best."
+
+Fay clung to her again and whispered, "Later on you'll understand
+better--I'll be able to tell you things, and perhaps you'll understand
+... though I'm not sure--you're not weak like me, you'd never go under
+... you'd always fight...."
+
+There was a pattering of small feet in the passage. Little high voices
+called for "Mummy," and the children came in.
+
+Tony, a grave-eyed, pale-faced child of five, came forward instantly,
+with his hand held out far in front of him. Jan, who loved little
+children, knew in a minute that he was afraid she would kiss him; so she
+shook hands with gentlemanly stiffness. Little Fay, on the contrary, ran
+forward, held up her arms "to be taken" and her adorably pretty little
+face to be kissed. She was startlingly like her mother at the same age,
+with bobbing curls of feathery gold, beseeching blue eyes and a
+complexion delicately coloured as the pearly pink lining of certain
+shells. She was, moreover, chubby, sturdy and robust--quite unlike Tony,
+who looked nervous, bleached and delicate.
+
+Tony went and leant against his mother, regarding Jan and his small
+sister with dubious, questioning eyes.
+
+Presently he remarked, "I wish she hadn't come."
+
+"Oh, Tony," Fay exclaimed reproachfully, "you must both love Auntie Jan
+very dearly. She has come such a long way to be good to us all."
+
+"I wish she hadn't," Tony persisted.
+
+"_I_ sall love Auntie Dzan," Fay remarked, virtuously.
+
+It was pleasant to be cuddled by this friendly baby, and Jan laid her
+cheek against the fluffy golden head; but all the time she was watching
+Tony. He reminded her of someone, and she couldn't think who. He
+maintained his aloof and unfriendly attitude till Ayah came to take the
+children to their second breakfast. Little Fay, however, refused to
+budge, and when the meekly salaaming ayah attempted to take her, made
+her strong little body stiff, and screamed vigorously, clinging so
+firmly to her aunt that Jan had herself to carry the obstreperous baby
+to the nursery, where she left her lying on the floor, still yelling
+with all the strength of her evidently healthy lungs.
+
+When Jan returned, rather dishevelled--for her niece had seized a
+handful of her hair in the final struggle not to be put down--Fay said
+almost complacently, "You see, the dear little soul took a fancy to you
+at once. Tony is much more reserved and not nearly so friendly. He's
+very Scotch, is Tony."
+
+"He does what he's told, anyway."
+
+"Oh, not always," Fay said reassuringly, "only when he doesn't mind
+doing it. They've both got very strong wills."
+
+"So have I," said Jan.
+
+Fay sighed. "It was time you came to keep them in order. I can't."
+
+This was evident, for Fay had not attempted to interfere with her
+daughter beyond saying, "I expect she's hungry, that's why she's so
+fretty, poor dear."
+
+That afternoon Peter went to the flat and was shown as usual into the
+sitting-room.
+
+Jan and the children were in the verandah, all with their backs to the
+room, and did not notice his entrance as Jan was singing nursery-rhymes.
+Fay sat on her knee, cuddled close as though there were no such thing as
+tempers in the world. Tony sat on a little chair at her side, not very
+near, but still near enough to manifest a more friendly spirit than in
+the morning. Peter waited in the background while the song went on.
+
+    I saw a ship a-sailing, a-sailing on the sea,
+    And it was full of pretty things for Tony, Fay and me.
+    There was sugar in the cabin and kisses in the hold----
+
+"Whose kisses?" Tony asked suspiciously.
+
+"Mummy's kisses, of course," said Jan.
+
+"Why doesn't it _say_ so, then?" Tony demanded.
+
+"Mummy's kisses in the hold," Jan sang obediently--
+
+    The sails were made of silk and the masts were made of gold.
+    Gold, gold, the masts were made of gold.
+
+"What nelse?" Fay asked before Jan could start the second verse.
+
+    There were four-and-twenty sailors a-skipping on the deck,
+    And they were little white mice with rings about their neck.
+    The captain was a duck, with a jacket on his back,
+    And when the ship began to sail, the captain cried, "Quack! Quack!
+    Quack! Quack!" The captain cried, "Quack! Quack!"
+
+"What nelse?" Fay asked again.
+
+"There isn't any nelse, that's all."
+
+"Adain," said Fay.
+
+"Praps," Tony said thoughtfully, "there was _some_ auntie's kisses in
+that hold ... just a few...."
+
+"I'm sure there were," said a new voice, and Peter appeared on the
+verandah.
+
+The children greeted him with effusion, and when he sat down Tony sat on
+his knee. He was never assailed by fears lest Peter should want to kiss
+him. Peter was not that sort.
+
+"Sing nunner song," little Fay commanded.
+
+"Not now," Jan said; "we've got a visitor and must talk to him."
+
+"Sing nunner song," little Fay repeated firmly, just as though she had
+not heard.
+
+"Not now; some other time," Jan said with equal firmness.
+
+"Mack!" said the baby, and suited the action to the word by dealing her
+aunt a good hard smack on the arm.
+
+"You mustn't do that," said Jan; "it's not kind."
+
+"Mack, mack, mack," in _crescendo_ with accompanying blows.
+
+Jan caught the little hand, while Peter and Tony, interested spectators,
+said nothing. She held it firmly. "Listen, little Fay," she said, very
+gently. "If you do that again I shall take you to Ayah in the nursery.
+Just once again, and you go."
+
+Jan loosed the little hand, and instantly it dealt her a resounding slap
+on the cheek.
+
+It is of no avail to kick and scream and wriggle in the arms of a
+strong, decided young aunt. For the second time that day, a vociferously
+struggling baby was borne back to the nursery.
+
+As the yells died away in the distance, Tony turned right round on
+Peter's knee and faced him: "She does what she says," he remarked in an
+awestruck whisper.
+
+"And a jolly good thing too," answered Peter.
+
+When Jan came back she brought her sister with her. Lalkhan brought tea,
+and Tony went with him quite meekly to the nursery. They heard him
+chattering to Lalkhan in Hindustani as they went along the passage.
+
+Fay looked a thought less haggard than in the morning. She had slept
+after tiffin; the fact that her sister was actually in the bungalow had
+a calming effect upon her. She was quite cheerful and full of plans for
+Jan's amusement; plans in which, of course, she proposed to take no part
+herself. Jan listened in considerable dismay to arrangements which
+appeared to her to make enormous inroads into Peter Ledgard's leisure
+hours. He and his motor seemed to be quite at Fay's disposal, and Jan
+found the situation both bewildering and embarrassing.
+
+"What a nuisance for him," she reflected, "to have a young woman thrust
+upon him in this fashion. It won't do to upset Fay, but I must tell him
+at the first opportunity that none of these projects hold good."
+
+Directly tea was over Fay almost hustled them out to go and buy a topee
+for Jan, and suggested that, having accomplished this, they should look
+in at the Yacht Club for an hour, "because it was band-night," and Jan
+would like the Yacht Club lawn, with the sea and the boats and all the
+cheerful people.
+
+As the car slid into the crowded traffic of the Esplanade Road, Peter
+pointed to a large building on the left, saying, "There's the Army and
+Navy Stores, quite close to you, you see. You can always get anything
+you want there. I'll give you my number ... not that it matters."
+
+"I've belonged for years to the one at home," said Jan, "and I
+understand the same number will do."
+
+She felt she really could not be beholden to this strange young man for
+everything, even a Stores number; and that she had better make the
+situation clear at once that she had come to take care of Fay and not to
+be an additional anxiety to him. At that moment she felt almost jealous
+of Peter. Fay seemed to turn to him for everything.
+
+When they reached the shop where topees were to be got, she heard a
+familiar, booming voice. Had she been alone she would certainly have
+turned and fled, deferring her purchase till Sir Langham Sykes had
+concluded his, but she could hardly explain her rather complicated
+reasons to Peter, who told the Eurasian assistant to bring topees for
+her inspection.
+
+Jan tried vainly to efface herself behind a tailor's dummy, but her back
+was reflected in the very mirror which also reproduced Sir Langham in
+the act of trying on a khaki-coloured topee. He saw her and at once
+hurried in her direction, exclaiming:
+
+"Ah, Miss Ross, run to earth! You slipped off this morning without
+bidding me good-bye, and I've been wonderin' all day where we should
+meet. Now let me advise you about your topee. _I'll_ choose it for you,
+then you can't go wrong. Get a large one, mind, or the back of your nice
+little neck will be burnt the colour of the toast they gave us on the
+_Carnduff_--shockin' toast, wasn't it? No, not that shape, idiot ...
+unless you're goin' to ride, are you? If so, you must have one of
+each--a large one, I said--what the devil's the use of that? You must
+wear it _well_ on your head, mind; you can't show much of that pretty
+grey hair that puzzled us all so--eh, w'at?"
+
+Jan had been white enough as she entered the shop, for she was beginning
+to feel quite amazingly tired; but now the face under the overshadowing
+topee was crimson and she was hopelessly confused and helpless in the
+overpowering of Sir Langham, who, when he could for a moment detach his
+mind from Jan, looked with considerable curiosity at Peter.
+
+Peter stood there silent, aloof, detached; and he appeared quite cool.
+Jan felt the atmosphere to be almost insufferably close, and heaved a
+sigh of gratitude when he suddenly turned on an electric fan above her
+head.
+
+"I think this will do," she said, in a faint voice to the assistant,
+though the crinkly green lining round the crown seemed searing her very
+brain.
+
+Peter intervened, asking: "Is it comfortable? No ..." as she took it
+off. "I can see it isn't. It has marked your forehead already. Don't be
+in a hurry. They'll probably need to alter the lining. Some women have
+it taken out altogether. Pins keep it on all right."
+
+Thus encouraged, she tried on others, and all the time Sir Langham held
+forth at the top of his voice, interrupting his announcement that he was
+dining at Government House that very night to swear at the assistant
+when he brought topees that did not fit, and giving his opinion of her
+appearance with the utmost frankness, till Jan found one that seemed
+rather less uncomfortable than the rest. Then in desperation she
+introduced Sir Langham to Peter.
+
+"Your sister-in-law looks a bit tucked up," he remarked affably. "We'd
+better take her to the Yacht Club and give her a peg--she seems to feel
+the heat."
+
+Jan cast one despairing, imploring glance at Peter, who rose to the
+occasion nobly.
+
+"You're quite right," he said. "This place is infernally stuffy. Come
+on. They know where to send it. Good afternoon sir," and before she
+realised what had happened Peter seized her by the arm and swept her out
+of the shop and into the front seat of the car, stepped over her and
+himself took the steering-wheel.
+
+While Sir Langham's voice bayed forth a mixture of expostulation and
+assignation at the Yacht Club later on.
+
+"Now where shall we go?" asked Peter.
+
+"Not the Yacht Club," Jan besought him. "He's coming there; he said so.
+Isn't he dreadful? Did you mind very much being taken for my
+brother-in-law? He has no idea who he really is, or I wouldn't have let
+it pass ... but I felt I could never explain ... I'm so sorry...."
+
+Her face was white enough now.
+
+"It would have been absurd to explain, and it's I who should apologise
+for the free-and-easy way I carried you off, but it was clearly a case
+for strong measures, or he'd have insisted on coming with us. What an
+awful little man! Did you have him all the voyage? No wonder you look
+tired.... I hope he didn't sit at your table...."
+
+Once out of doors, the delicious breeze from the sea that springs up
+every evening in Bombay revived her. She forgot Sir Langham, for a few
+minutes she even forgot Fay and her anxieties in sheer pleasure in the
+prospect, as the car fell into its place in the crowded traffic of the
+Queen's Road.
+
+Jan never forgot that drive. He ran her out to Chowpatty, where the
+road lies along the shore and the carriages of Mohammedan, Hindu and
+Parsee gentlemen stand in serried rows while their picturesque occupants
+"eat the air" in passive and contented Eastern fashion; then up to Ridge
+Road on Malabar Hill, where he stopped that she might get out and walk
+to the edge of the wooded cliff and look down at the sea and the great
+city lying bathed in that clear golden light only to be found at sunset
+in the East.
+
+Peter enjoyed her evident appreciation of it all. She said very little,
+but she looked fresh and rested again, and he was conscious of a quite
+unusual pleasure in her mere presence as they stood together in the
+green garden, got and kept by such infinite pains and care, that borders
+the road running along the top of Malabar Hill.
+
+Suddenly she turned. "We mustn't wait another minute," she said. "You,
+doubtless, want to go to the club. It has been very good of you to spend
+so much time with me. What makes it all so beautiful is that everywhere
+one sees the sea. I will tell Fay how much I have enjoyed it."
+
+Peter's eyes met hers and held them: "Try to think of me as a friend,
+Miss Ross. I can see you are thoroughly capable and independent; but,
+believe me, India is not like England, and a white woman needs a good
+many things done for her here if she's to be at all comfortable. I don't
+want to butt in and be a nuisance; but just remember I'm there when the
+bell rings----"
+
+"I am not likely to forget," said Jan.
+
+Lights began to twinkle in the city below. The soft monotonous throb of
+tom-toms came beating through the ambient air like a pulse of teeming
+life; and when he left her at her sister's door the purple darkness of
+an Eastern night had curtained off the sea.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+THE BEGINNING OF THE JOB
+
+
+Fay was still lying on her long chair in the verandah when Jan got in.
+She had turned on the electric light above her head and had, seemingly,
+been working at some diminutive garment of nainsook and lace. She looked
+up at Jan's step, asking eagerly, "Well, did you like it? Did you see
+many people? Was the band good?"
+
+Jan sat down beside her and explained that Peter had taken her for a
+drive instead. She made her laugh over her encounter with Sir Langham,
+and was enthusiastic about the view from Malabar Hill. Then Fay sent her
+to say good night to the children, who were just getting ready for bed.
+
+As she went down the long passage towards the nursery, she heard small
+voices chattering in Hindustani, and as she opened the door little Fay
+was in the act of stepping out of all her clothes.
+
+Tony was already clad in pink pyjamas, which made him look paler than
+ever.
+
+Little Fay, naked as any shameless cherub on a Renaissance festoon,
+danced across the tiled floor, and, pausing directly in front of her
+aunt, announced:
+
+"I sall mack Ayah as muts as I like."
+
+The good-natured Goanese ayah salaamed and, beaming upon her charge,
+murmured entire acquiescence.
+
+Jan looked down at the absurd round atom who defied her, and, trying
+hard not to laugh, said:
+
+"Oh, no, you won't."
+
+"I sall!" the baby declared even more emphatically, and, lifting up her
+adorable, obstinate little face to look at Jan, nodded her curly head
+vigorously.
+
+"I think not," Jan remarked rather unsteadily, "because if you do,
+people won't like you. We can none of us go about smacking innocent
+folks just for the fun of it. Everybody would be shocked and horrified."
+
+"Socked and hollified," echoed little Fay, delighted with the new words,
+"socked and hollified!... What nelse?"
+
+"What usually follows is that the disagreeable little girl gets smacked
+herself."
+
+"No," said Fay, but a thought doubtfully. "No," more firmly. Then with a
+smile that was subtly compounded of pathos and confidence, "Nobody would
+mack plitty little Fay ... 'cept ... plapse ... Auntie Dzan."
+
+The stern aunt in question snatched up her niece to cover her with
+kisses. Ayah escaped chastisement that evening, for, arrayed in a white
+nighty, "plitty little Fay" sat good as gold on Jan's knee, absorbed in
+the interest of "This little pig went to market," told on her own toes.
+Even Tony, the aloof and unfriendly, consented to unbend to the extent
+of being interested in the dialogue of "John Smith and Minnie Bowl, can
+you shoe a little foal?" and actually thrust out his own bare feet that
+Jan might make them take part in the drama of the "twa wee doggies who
+went to the market," and came back "louper-scamper, louper-scamper."
+
+At the end of every song or legend came the inevitable "What nelse?"
+from little Fay--and Jan only escaped after the most solemn promises had
+been exacted for a triple bill on the morrow.
+
+When she had changed and went back to the sitting-room, dinner was
+ready. Lalkhan again bent over her with fatherly solicitude as he
+offered each course, and this time Jan, being really hungry, rather
+enjoyed his ministrations. A boy assisted at the sideboard, and another
+minion appeared to bring the dishes from the kitchen, for the butler and
+the boy never left the room for an instant.
+
+Fay looked like a tired ghost, and Jan could see that it was a great
+effort to her to talk cheerfully and seem interested in the home news.
+
+After dinner they went back to the sitting-room. Lalkhan brought coffee
+and Fay lit a cigarette. Jan wandered round, looking at the photographs
+and engravings on the walls.
+
+"How is it," she asked, "that Mr. Ledgard seems to come in so many of
+these groups? Did you rent the flat from a friend of his?"
+
+"I didn't 'rent' the flat from anybody," Fay answered. "It's Peter's own
+flat. He lent it to us."
+
+Jan turned and stared at her sister. "Mr. Ledgard's flat!" she
+repeated. "And what is he doing?"
+
+"He's living at the club just now. He turned out when we came. Don't
+look at me like that, Jan.... There was nothing else to be done."
+
+Jan came back and sat on the edge of the big sofa. "But I understood
+Hugo's letter to say...."
+
+"Whatever Hugo said in his letter was probably lies. If Peter hadn't
+lent us his flat, I should have had nowhere to lay my head. Who do you
+suppose would let us a flat here, after all that has happened, unless we
+paid in advance, and how could we do that without any ready money? Why,
+a flat like this unfurnished costs over three hundred rupees a month. I
+don't know what a furnished flat would be."
+
+"But--isn't it ... taking a great deal from Mr. Ledgard?" Jan asked
+timidly.
+
+Fay stretched out her hand and suddenly switched off the lights, so that
+they were left together on the big sofa in the soft darkness.
+
+"Give me your hand, Jan. I shall be less afraid of you when I just feel
+you and can't see you."
+
+"Why should you be afraid of me?... Dear, dear Fay, you must remember
+how little I really know. How can I understand?"
+
+Fay leant against her sister and held her close. "Sometimes I feel as if
+I couldn't understand it all myself. But you mustn't worry about Peter's
+flat. We'll all go home the minute I can be moved. He doesn't mind,
+really ... and there was nothing else to be done."
+
+"Does Hugo know you are here?"
+
+Fay laughed, a sad, bitter little laugh. "It was Hugo who asked Peter to
+lend his flat."
+
+"Then what about his servants? What has he done with them while you are
+here?"
+
+"These are his servants."
+
+"But Hugo said...."
+
+"Jan, dear, it is no use quoting Hugo to me. I can tell you the sort of
+thing he would say.... Did he mention Peter at all?"
+
+"Certainly not. He said you were 'installed in a most comfortable flat'
+and had brought your own servants."
+
+"I brought Ayah--naturally, Peter hadn't an ayah. But why do you object
+to his servants? They're very good."
+
+"But don't they think it ... a little odd?"
+
+"Oh, you can't bother about what servants think in India. They think us
+all mad anyway."
+
+There was silence for a few minutes while Jan realised the fact that,
+dislike it as she might, she seemed fated to be laid under considerable
+obligation to Mr. Peter Ledgard.
+
+"Where is Hugo?" she asked at last.
+
+"My dear, you appear to have heard from Hugo since I have. As to his
+whereabouts I haven't the remotest idea."
+
+"Do you mean to say, Fay, that he hasn't let you know where he is?"
+
+"He didn't come with us to the flat because he was afraid he'd be seized
+for debts and things. We've only been here a fortnight. He's probably
+on board ship somewhere--there hasn't been much time for him to let me
+know...."
+
+Fay spoke plaintively, as though Jan were rather hard on Hugo in
+expecting him to give his wife any account of his movements.
+
+Jan was glad it was dark. She felt bewildered and oppressed and very,
+very angry with her brother-in-law, who seemed to have left his entire
+household in the care of Peter Ledgard. Was Peter paying for their very
+food, she wondered? She'd put a stop to that, anyhow.
+
+"Jan"--she felt Fay lean a little closer--"don't be down on me. You've
+no idea how hard it has all been. You're such a daylight person
+yourself."
+
+"Hard on you, my precious! I could never feel the least little bit hard.
+Only it's all so puzzling. And what do you mean by a 'daylight person'?"
+
+"You know, Jan, for three months now I've been a lot alone, and I've
+done a deal of thinking--more than ever in all my life before; and it
+seems to me that the world is divided into three kinds of people--the
+daylight people, and the twilight people and the night people."
+
+Fay paused. Jan stroked her hot, thin hand, but did not speak, and the
+tired, whispering voice went on: "_We_ were daylight people--Daddie was
+very daylight. There were never any mysteries; we all of us knew always
+where each of us was, and there were no secrets and no queer people
+coming for interviews, and it wouldn't have mattered very much if
+anyone _had_ opened one of our letters. Oh, it's such an _easy_ life in
+the daylight country...."
+
+"And in the twilight country?" asked Jan.
+
+"Ah, there it's very different. Everything is mysterious. You never know
+where anyone has gone, and if he's away queer people--quite horrid
+people--come and ask for him and won't go away, and sit in the verandah
+and cheek the butler and the boy and insist on seeing the 'memsahib,'
+and when she screws up her courage and goes to them, they ask for money,
+and show dirty bits of paper and threaten, and it's all awful--till
+somebody like Peter comes and kicks them out, and then they simply fly."
+
+In spite of her irritation at being beholden to him, Jan began to feel
+grateful to Peter.
+
+"Sometimes," Fay continued, "I think it would be easier to be a night
+person. They've no appearances to keep up. You see, what makes it so
+difficult for the twilight people is that they _want_ to live in the
+daylight, and it's too strong for them. All the night people whom they
+know--and if you're twilight you know lots of 'em--come and drag them
+back. _They_ don't care. They rather like to go right in among the
+daylight folk and scare and shock them, and make them uncomfortable. You
+_can't_ suffer in the same way when you've gone under altogether."
+
+"But, Fay dear," Jan interposed, "you talk as though the twilight people
+couldn't help it...."
+
+"They can't--they truly can't."
+
+"But surely there's right and wrong, straightness and crookedness, and
+no one _need_ be crooked."
+
+"People like you needn't--but everybody isn't strong like that. Hugo
+says every man has his price, and every woman too--Peter says so, too."
+
+"Then Peter ought to be ashamed of himself. Do you suppose _he_ has his
+price?"
+
+"No, not in that way. He'd think it silly to be pettifogging and
+dishonest about money, or to go in for mad speculations run by shady
+companies; but he wouldn't think it _extraordinary_ like you."
+
+"I'm afraid my education has been neglected. A great many things seem
+extraordinary to me."
+
+"You think it funny I should be living in Peter's flat, waited on by
+Peter's servants--but what else could I do?"
+
+Jan smiled in the darkness. She saw where her niece had got "what
+nelse?"
+
+"Isn't it just a little--unusual?" she asked gently. "Is there no money
+at all, Fay? What has become of all your own?"
+
+"It's not all gone," Fay said eagerly. "I think there's nearly two
+thousand pounds left, but Peter made me write home--that was at
+Dariawarpur, before he came down here--and say no more was to be sent
+out, not even if I wrote myself to ask for it--and _he_ wrote to Mr.
+Davidson too----"
+
+"I know somebody wrote. Mr. Davidson was very worried ... but what _can_
+Hugo have done with eight thousand pounds in two years? Besides his
+pay...."
+
+"Eight thousand pounds doesn't go far when you've dealings with
+money-lenders and mines in Peru--but _I_ don't understand it--don't ask
+me. I believe he left me a little money--I don't know how much--at a
+bank in Elphinstone Circle--but I haven't liked to write and find out,
+lest it should be very little ... or none...."
+
+"Mercy!" exclaimed Jan. "It surely would be better to know for certain."
+
+"When you've lived in the twilight country as long as I have you'll not
+want to know anything for certain. It's only when things are wrapped up
+in a merciful haze of obscurity that life is tolerable at all. Do you
+suppose I _wanted_ to find out that my husband was a rascal? I shut my
+eyes to it as long as I could, and then Truth came with all her cruel
+tools and pried them open. Oh, Jan, it did hurt so!"
+
+If Fay had cried, if her voice had even broken or she had seemed deeply
+moved, it would have been more bearable. It was the poor thing's
+calm--almost indifference--that frightened Jan. For it proved that her
+perceptions were numbed.
+
+Fay had been tortured till she could feel nothing acutely any more. Jan
+had the feeling that in some dreadful, inscrutable way her sister was
+shut away from her in some prison-house of the mind.
+
+And who shall break through those strange, intangible, impenetrable
+walls of unshared experience?
+
+Jan swallowed her tears and said cheerfully: "Well, it's all going to be
+different now. You needn't worry about anything any more. If Hugo has
+left no money we'll manage without. Mr. Davidson will let me have what I
+want ... but we must be careful, because of the children."
+
+"And you'll try not to mind living in Peter's flat?" Fay said, rubbing
+her head against Jan's shoulder. "It's India, you know, and men are very
+kind out here--much friendlier than they are at home."
+
+"So it seems."
+
+"You needn't think there's anything wrong, Jan. Peter isn't in love with
+me now."
+
+"Was he ever in love with you?"
+
+"Oh, yes, a bit, once; when he first came to Dariawarpur ... lots of
+them were then. I really was very pretty, and I had quite a little court
+... but when the bad times came and people began to look shy at
+Hugo--everybody was nice to me always--then Peter seemed different.
+There was no more philandering, he was just ... Oh, Jan, he was just
+such a daylight person, and might have been Daddie. I should have died
+without him."
+
+"Fay, tell me--I'll never ask again--was Hugo unkind to you?"
+
+"No, Jan, truly not unkind. He shut me away from the greater part of his
+life ... and there were other people ... not ladies"--Fay felt the
+shoulder she leant against stiffen--"but I didn't know that for quite a
+long time ... and he wasn't ever surly or cross or grudging. He always
+wanted me to have everything very nice, and I really believe he always
+hoped the mines and things would make lots of money.... You know, Jan,
+I'd _rather_ believe in people. I daresay you think I'm weak and stupid
+... but I can never understand wives who set detectives on their
+husbands."
+
+"It isn't done by the best people," Jan said with a laugh that was half
+a sob. "Let's hope it isn't often necessary...."
+
+Fay drew a little closer: "Oh, you are dear not to be stern and
+scolding...."
+
+"It's not you I feel like scolding."
+
+"If you scolded him, he'd agree with every word, so that you simply
+couldn't go on ... and then he'd go away and do just the same things
+over again, and fondly hope you'd never hear of it. But he _was_ kind in
+lots of ways. He didn't drink----"
+
+"I don't see anything so very creditable in that," Jan interrupted.
+
+"Well, it's one of the things he didn't do--and we had the nicest
+bungalow in the station and by far the best motor--a much smarter motor
+than the Resident. And it was only when I discovered that Hugo had made
+out I was an heiress that I began to feel uncomfortable."
+
+"Was he good to the children?"
+
+"He hardly saw them. Children don't interest him much. He liked little
+Fay because she's so pretty, but I don't think he cared a great deal for
+Tony. Tony is queer and judging. Don't take a dislike to Tony, Jan; he
+needs a long time, but once you've got him he stays for ever--will you
+remember that?"
+
+Again, Jan felt that cold hand laid on her heart, the hand of chill
+foreboding. She had noticed many times already that when Fay was off her
+guard she always talked as though, for her, everything were ended, and
+she was only waiting for something. There seemed no permanence in her
+relations with them all.
+
+A shadowy white figure lifted the curtain between the two rooms and
+stood salaaming.
+
+Jan started violently. She was not yet accustomed to the soundless naked
+feet of the servants whose presence might be betrayed by a rustle, never
+by a step.
+
+It was Ayah waiting to know if Fay would like to go to bed.
+
+"Shall I go, Jan? Are you tired?"
+
+Jan was, desperately tired, for she had had no sleep the night before,
+but Fay's voice had in it a little tremor of fear that showed she
+dreaded the night.
+
+"Send her to bed, poor thing. I'll look after you, brush your hair and
+tuck you up and all.... Fay, oughtn't you to have somebody in your room?
+Couldn't my cot be put in there, just to sleep?"
+
+"Oh, Jan, would you? Don't you mind?"
+
+"Shall I help her to move it?" Jan said, getting up.
+
+Fay pulled her down again. "You funny Jan, you can't do that sort of
+thing here. The servants will do it."
+
+She sat up, gave a rapid, eager order to Ayah, and in a few minutes Jan
+heard her bed being wheeled down the passage. Every room had wide
+double doors--like French rooms--and there was no difficulty.
+
+Fay sank down again among her cushions with a great sigh of relief: "I
+don't mind now how soon I go to bed. I shan't be frightened in the long
+dark night any more. Oh, Jan, you _are_ a dear daylight person!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+THE CHILDREN
+
+
+Jan made headway with Tony and little Fay. An aunt who carried one
+pick-a-back; who trotted, galloped, or curvetted to command as an
+animated steed; who provided spades and buckets, and herself, getting up
+very early, took them and the children to an adorable sandy beach,
+deserted save for two or three solitary horsemen; an aunt who dug holes
+and built castles and was indirectly the means of thrilling rides upon a
+real horse, when Peter was encountered as one of the mounted few taking
+exercise before breakfast; such an aunt could not be regarded otherwise
+than as an acquisition, even though she did at times exert authority and
+insist upon obedience.
+
+She got it, too; especially from little Fay, who, hitherto, had obeyed
+nobody. Tony, less wilful and not so prone to be destructive, was
+secretly still unwon, though outwardly quite friendly. He waited and
+watched and weighed Jan in the balance of his small judgment. Tony was
+never in any hurry to make up his mind.
+
+One great hold Jan had was a seemingly inexhaustible supply of rhymes,
+songs, and stories, and she was, moreover, of a telling disposition.
+
+Both children had a quite unusual passion for new words. Little Fay
+would stop short in the midst of the angriest yells if anyone called her
+conduct in question by some new term of opprobrium. Ayah's vocabulary
+was limited, even in the vernacular, and nothing would have induced her
+to return railing for railing to the children, however sorely they
+abused her. But Jan occasionally freed her mind, and at such times her
+speech was terse and incisive. Moreover, she quickly perceived her power
+over her niece in this respect, and traded on the baby's quick ear and
+interest.
+
+One day there was a tremendous uproar in the nursery just after tiffin,
+when poor Fay usually tried to get the sleep that would partially atone
+for her restless night. Jan swept down the passage and into the room, to
+find her niece netted in her cot, and bouncing up and down like a
+newly-landed trout, while Ayah wrestled with a struggling Tony, who
+tried to drown his sister's screams with angry cries of "Let me get at
+her to box her," and, failing that, vigorously boxing Ayah.
+
+Jan closed the door behind her and stood where she was, saying in the
+quiet, compelling voice they had both already learned to respect: "It's
+time for Mummy's sleep, and how can Mummy sleep in such a pandemonium?"
+
+Little Fay paused in the very middle of a yell and her face twinkled
+through the restraining net.
+
+"Pandemolium," she echoed, joyously rolling it over on her tongue with
+obvious gusto.
+
+"Pandemolium."
+
+"She kickened and fit with me," Tony cried angrily. "I _must_ box her."
+
+"Pandemolium?" little Fay repeated inquiringly. "What nelse?"
+
+"Yes," said Jan, trying hard not to laugh; "that's exactly what it was
+... disgraceful."
+
+"What nelse?" little Fay persisted. She had heard disgraceful before. It
+lacked novelty.
+
+"All sorts of horrid things," said Jan. "Selfish and odious and
+ill-bred----"
+
+"White bled, blown bled, ill-bled," the person under the net chanted.
+"What nother bled?"
+
+"There's well-bred," said Jan severely, "and that's what neither you nor
+Tony are at the present moment."
+
+"There's toas' too," said the voice from under the net, ignoring the
+personal application. "Sall we have some?"
+
+"Certainly not," Jan answered with great sternness. "People who riot and
+brawl----"
+
+"Don't like zose words," the netted one interrupted distastefully (R's
+always stumped her), "naughty words."
+
+"Not so naughty as the people who do it. Has Ayah had her dinner? No?
+Then poor Ayah must go and have it, and I shall stay here and tell a
+very soft, whispery story to people who are quiet and good, who lie in
+their cots and don't quarrel----"
+
+"Or blawl" came from the net in a small determined voice. She could not
+let the new word pass after all.
+
+"Exactly ... or brawl," Jan repeated in tones nothing like so firm.
+
+"She kickened and fit me, she did," Tony mumbled moodily as he climbed
+into his cot: "Can't I box her nor nothing?"
+
+"Not now," Jan said, soothingly. Ayah salaamed and hurried away. She, at
+all events, had cause to bless Jan, for now she got her meals with fair
+regularity and in peace.
+
+In a few minutes the room was as quiet as an empty church, save for a
+low voice that related an interminable story about "Cockie-Lockie and
+Henny-Penny going to tell the King the lift's fallen," till one, at all
+events, of the "blawlers" was sound asleep.
+
+The voice ceased and Tony's head appeared over the rail of his cot.
+
+"Hush!" Jan whispered. "Sister's asleep. Just wait a few minutes till
+Ayah comes, then I'll take you away with me."
+
+Faithful Ayah didn't dawdle over her food. She returned, sat down on the
+floor beside little Fay's cot and started her endless mending.
+
+Jan carried Tony away with her along the passage and into the
+drawing-room. The verandah was too hot in the early afternoon.
+
+"Now what shall we do?" she asked, with a sigh, as she sat down on the
+big sofa. "_I'd_ like to sleep, but I suppose you won't let me."
+
+Tony got off her knee and looked at her gravely.
+
+"You can," he said, magnanimously, "because you brought me. I hate bed.
+I'll build a temple with my bricks and I won't knock it down. Not
+loud."
+
+And like his aunt he did what he said.
+
+Jan put her feet up and lay very still. For a week now she had risen
+early every morning to take the children out in the freshest part of the
+day. She seldom got any rest in the afternoon, as she saw to it that
+they should be quiet to let Fay sleep, and she went late to bed because
+the cool nights in the verandah were the pleasant time for Fay.
+
+Tony murmured to himself, but he made little noise with his stone
+bricks. And presently Jan was sleeping almost as soundly as her
+obstreperous niece.
+
+Tony did not repeat new words aloud as did his sister. He turned them
+over in his mind and treasured some simply because he liked the sound of
+them.
+
+There were two that he had carried in his memory for nearly half his
+life; two that had for him a mysterious fascination, a vaguely agreeable
+significance that he couldn't at all explain. One was "Piccadilly" and
+the other "Coln St. Aldwyn's." He didn't even know that they were the
+names of places at first, but he thought they had a most beautiful
+sound. Gradually the fact that they were places filtered into his mind,
+and for Tony Piccadilly seemed particularly rural. He connected it in
+some way with the duck-slaying Mrs. Bond of the Baby's Opera, a book he
+and Mummy used to sing from before she grew too tired and sad to sing.
+Before she lay so many hours in her long chair, before the big man he
+called Daddie became so furtive and disturbing. Then Mummy used to tell
+him things about a place called Home, and though she never actually
+mentioned Piccadilly he had heard the word very often in a song that
+somebody sang in the drawing-room at Dariawarpur.
+
+Theatricals had been towards and Mummy was acting, and people came to
+practise their songs with her, for not only did she sing herself
+delightfully, but she played accompaniments well for other people. The
+play was a singing play, and the Assistant Superintendent of Police, a
+small, fair young man with next to no voice and a very clear
+enunciation, continually practised a song that described someone as
+walking "down Piccadilly with a tulip or a lily in his mediaeval hand."
+
+Tony rather liked "mediaeval" too, but not so much as Piccadilly. A
+flowery way, he was sure, with real grass in it like the Resident's
+garden. Besides, the "dilly" suggested "daffy-down dilly come up to town
+in a yellow petticoat and a green gown."
+
+But not even Piccadilly could compete with Coln St. Aldwyn's in Tony's
+affections. There was something about that suggestive of exquisite peace
+and loveliness, no mosquitoes and many friendly beasts. He had only
+heard the word once by chance in connection with the mysterious place
+called Home, in some casual conversation when no one thought he was
+listening. He seized upon it instantly and it became a priceless
+possession, comforting in times of stress, soothing at all times, a sort
+of refuge from a real world that had lately been very puzzling for a
+little boy.
+
+He was certain that at Coln St. Aldwyn's there was a mighty forest
+peopled by all the nicest animals. Dogs that were ever ready to extend a
+welcoming paw, elephants and mild clumsy buffaloes that gave good milk
+to the thirsty. Little grey squirrels frolicked in the branches of the
+trees, and the tiny birds Mummy told him about that lived in the yew
+hedge at Wren's End. Tony had himself been to Wren's End he was told,
+but he was only one at the time, and beyond a feeling that he liked the
+name and that it was a very green place his ideas about it were hazy.
+
+Sometimes he wished it had been called "Wren St. Endwyn's," but after
+mature reflection he decided it was but a poor imitation of the real
+thing, so he kept the two names separate in his mind.
+
+He had added two more names to his collection since he came to Bombay.
+"Mahaluxmi," the road running beside the sea, where Peter sometimes took
+them and Auntie Jan for a drive after tea when it was high tide; and
+"Taraporevala," who owned a famous book-shop in Medow Street where he
+had once been in a tikka-gharri with Auntie Jan to get some books for
+Mummy. Peter had recommended the shop, and the name instantly seized
+upon Tony's imagination and will remain with it evermore. He never for
+one moment connected it with the urbane gentleman in eyeglasses and a
+funny little round hat who owned the shop. For Tony "Taraporevala" will
+always suggest endless vistas of halls, fitted with books, shelves, and
+tall stacks of books, and counters laden with piles of books. It seemed
+amazing to find anything so vast in such a narrow street. There was
+something magic about it, like the name. Tony was sure that some day
+when he should explore the forest of Coln St. Aldwyn he would come upon
+a little solid door in a great rock. A little solid door studded with
+heavy nails and leading to a magic cave full of unimaginable treasure.
+This door should only open to the incantation of "Taraporevala." None of
+your "abracadabras" for him.
+
+And just as Mummy had talked much of "Wren's End" in happier days, so
+now Auntie Jan told them endless stories about it and what they would
+all do there when they went home. Some day, when he knew her better, he
+would ask her about Coln St. Aldwyn's. He felt he didn't know her
+intimately enough to do so yet, but he was gradually beginning to have
+some faith in her. She was a well-instructed person, too, on the whole,
+and she answered a straight question in a straight way.
+
+It was one of the things Tony could never condone in the big man called
+Daddie, that he could never answer the simplest question. He always
+asked another in return, and there was derision of some sort concealed
+in this circuitous answer. Doubtless he meant to be pleasant and
+amusing--Tony was just enough to admit that--but he was, so Tony felt,
+profoundly mistaken in the means he sought. He took liberties, too;
+punching liberties that knocked the breath out of a small boy's body
+without actually hurting much; and he never, never talked sense. Tony
+resented this. Like the Preacher, he felt there was a time to jest and a
+time to refrain from jesting, and it didn't amuse him a bit to be
+punched and rumpled and told he was a surly little devil if he attempted
+to punch back. In some vague way Tony felt that it wasn't playing the
+game--if it was a game. Often, too, for the past year and more, he
+connected the frequent disappearances of the big man with trouble for
+Mummy. Tony understood Hindustani as well as and better than English.
+His extensive vocabulary in the former would have astonished his
+mother's friends had they been able to translate, and he understood a
+good deal of the servants' talk. He felt no real affection for the big,
+tiresome man, though he admired him, his size, his good looks, and a way
+he had with grown-up people; but he decided quite dispassionately, on
+evidence and without any rancour, that the big man was a "budmash," for
+he, unlike Auntie Jan, never did anything he said he'd do. And when,
+before they left Dariawarpur, the big man entirely disappeared, Tony
+felt no sorrow, only some surprise that having said he was going he
+actually had gone. Auntie Jan never mentioned him, Mummy had reminded
+them both always to include him when they said their prayers, but
+latterly Mummy had been too tired to come to hear prayers. Auntie Jan
+came instead, and Tony, watching her face out of half-shut eyes, tried
+leaving out "bless Daddie" to see if anything happened. Sure enough
+something did; Auntie Jan looked startled. "Say 'Bless Daddie,' Tony,
+'and please help him.'"
+
+"To do what?" Tony asked. "Not to come back here?"
+
+"I don't think he'll come back here just now," Auntie Jan said in a
+frightened sort of whisper, "but he needs help badly."
+
+Tony folded his hands devoutly and said, "Bless Daddie and please help
+him--to stay away just now."
+
+And low down under her breath Jan said, "Amen."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+THE SHADOW BEFORE
+
+
+Jan had been a week in Bombay, and her grave anxiety about Fay was in no
+way lessened. Rather did it increase and intensify, for not only did her
+bodily strength seem to ebb from her almost visibly day by day, but her
+mind seemed so detached and aloof from both present and future.
+
+It was only when Jan talked about the past, about their happy girlhood
+and their lovable comrade-father, that Fay seemed to take hold and
+understand. All that had happened before his death seemed real and vital
+to her. But when Jan tried to interest her in plans for the future, the
+voyage home, the children, the baby that was due so soon, Fay looked at
+her with tired, lack-lustre eyes and seemed at once to become
+absent-minded and irrelevant.
+
+She was ready enough to discuss the characters of the children, to
+impress upon Jan the fact that Tony was not unloving, only cautious and
+slow before he really gave his affection. That little Fay was exactly
+what she appeared on the surface--affectionate, quick, wilful, and
+already conscious of her own power through her charm.
+
+"I defy anybody to quarrel with Fay when she is willing to make it up,"
+her mother said. "Tony melts like wax before the warmth of her
+advances. She may have behaved atrociously to him five minutes
+before--Ayah lets her, and I am far too weak with her--but if _she_
+wants to be friends Tony forgets and condones everything. Was I very
+naughty to you, Jan, as a baby?"
+
+"Not that I can remember. I think you were very biddable and good."
+
+"And you?"
+
+Jan laughed--"There you have me. I believe I was most naughty and
+obstreperous, and have vivid recollections of being sent to bed for
+various offences. You see, Mother was far too strong and wise to spoil
+me as little Fay is spoilt. Father tried his best, but you remember
+Hannah? Could you imagine Hannah submitting for one moment to the sort
+of treatment that baby metes out to poor, patient Ayah every single
+day?"
+
+"By the way, how is Hannah?"
+
+"Hannah is in her hardy usual. She is going strong, and has developed
+all sorts of latent talent as a cook. She was with me in the furnished
+flat I rented till the day I left (I only took it by the month), and
+she'll be with us again when we all get back to Wren's End."
+
+"But I thought Wren's End was let?"
+
+"Only till March quarter-day, and I've cabled to the agent not to
+entertain any other offer, as we want it ourselves."
+
+"I like to think of the children at Wren's End," Fay said dreamily.
+
+"Don't you like to think of yourself there, too? Would you like any
+other place better?"
+
+Jan's voice sounded constrained and a little hard. People sometimes
+speak crossly when they are frightened, and just then Jan felt the cold,
+skinny hands of some unnameable terror clutching her heart. Why did Fay
+always exclude herself from all plans?
+
+They were, as usual, sitting in the verandah after dinner, and Fay's
+eyes were fixed on the deeply blue expanse of sky. She hardly seemed to
+hear Jan, for she continued: "Do you remember the sketch Daddie did of
+me against the yew hedge? I'd like Tony to have that some day if you'd
+let him."
+
+"Of course that picture is yours," Jan said, hastily. "We never divided
+the pictures when he died. Some were sold and we shared the money, but
+our pictures are at Wren's End."
+
+"I remember that money," Fay interrupted. "Hugo was so pleased about it,
+and gave me a diamond chain."
+
+"Fay, where do you keep your jewellery?"
+
+"There isn't any to keep now. He 'realised' it all long before we left
+Dariawarpur."
+
+"What do you mean, Fay? Has Hugo pawned it? All Mother's things, too?"
+
+"I don't know what he did with it," Fay said, wearily. "He told me it
+wasn't safe in Dariawarpur, as there were so many robbers about that hot
+weather, and he took all the things in their cases to send to the bank.
+And I never saw them again."
+
+Jan said nothing, but she reflected rather ruefully that when Fay
+married she had let her have nearly all their mother's ornaments, partly
+because Fay loved jewels as jewels, and Jan cared little for them
+except as associations. "If I'd kept more," Jan thought, "they'd have
+come in for little Fay. Now there's nothing except what Daddie gave me."
+
+"Are you sorry, Jan?" Fay asked, presently. "I suppose there again you
+think I ought to have stood out, to have made inquiries and insisted on
+getting a receipt from the bank. But I knew very well they were not
+going to the bank. I don't think they fetched much, but Hugo looked a
+little less harassed after he'd got them. I've nothing left now but my
+wedding ring and the little enamel chain like yours, that Daddie gave us
+the year he had that portrait of Meg in the Salon and took us over to
+see it. Where is Meg? Has she come back yet?"
+
+"Meg is still in Bremen with an odious German family, but she leaves at
+the end of the Christmas holidays, as the girl is going to school, and
+Meg will be utilised to bring her over. Then she's to have a rest for a
+month or two, and I daresay she'd come to Wren's End and help us with
+the babies when we get back."
+
+Fay leant forward and said eagerly, "Try to get her, Jan. I'd love to
+think she was there to help you."
+
+"To help us," Jan repeated firmly.
+
+Fay sighed. "I can never think of myself as of much use any more;
+besides ... Oh, Jan, won't you face it? You who are so brave about
+facing things ... I don't believe I shall come through--this time."
+
+Jan got up and walked restlessly about the verandah. She tried to make
+herself say, heard her own voice saying without any conviction, that it
+was nonsense; that Fay was run down and depressed and no wonder; and
+that she would feel quite different in a month or two. And all the time,
+though her voice said these preposterously banal things, her brain
+repeated the doctor's words after his last visit: "I wish there was a
+little more stamina, Miss Ross. I don't like this complete inertia. It's
+not natural. Can't you rouse her at all?"
+
+"My sister has had a very trying time, you know. She seems thoroughly
+worn out."
+
+"I know, I know," the doctor had said. "A bad business and cruelly hard
+on her; but I wish we could get her strength up a bit somehow. I don't
+like it--this lack of interest in everything--I don't like it." And the
+doctor's thin, clever face looked lined and worried as he left.
+
+His words rang in Jan's ears, drowning her own spoken words that seemed
+such a hollow sham.
+
+She went and knelt by Fay's long chair. Fay touched her cheek very
+gently (little Fay had the same adorable tender gestures). "It would
+make it easier for both of us if you'd face it, my dear," she said. "I
+could talk much more sensibly then and make plans, and perhaps really be
+of some use. But I feel a wretched hypocrite to talk of sharing in
+things when I know perfectly well I shan't be there."
+
+"Don't you want to be there?" Jan asked, hoarsely.
+
+[Illustration: "It would make it easier for both of us if you'd face it,
+my dear."]
+
+Fay shook her head. "I know it's mean to shuffle out of it all, but I
+_am_ so tired. Do you think it very horrid of me, Jan?"
+
+In silence Jan held her close; and in that moment she faced it.
+
+The days went on, strange, quiet days of brilliant sunshine. Their daily
+life shrouded from the outside world even as the verandah was shrouded
+from the sun when Lalkhan let down the chicks every day after tiffin.
+
+Peter was their only visitor besides the doctor, and Peter came
+practically every day. He generally took Jan out after tea, sometimes
+with the children, sometimes alone. He even went with her to the bank in
+Elphinstone Circle, so like a bit of Edinburgh, with its solid stone
+houses, and found that Hugo actually had lodged fifty pounds there in
+Fay's name. The clerks looked curiously at Jan, for they thought she was
+Mrs. Tancred. Every one in business or official circles in Bombay knew
+about Hugo Tancred. His conduct had, for a while, even ousted the usual
+topics of conversation--money, food, and woman--from the bazaars; and an
+exhaustive discussion of it was only kept out of the Native Press by the
+combined efforts of the Police and his own Department. Jan gained from
+Peter a fairly clear idea of the _debacle_ that had occurred in Hugo
+Tancred's life. She no longer wondered that Fay refused to leave the
+bungalow. She began to feel branded herself.
+
+For Jan, Peter's visits had come to have something of the relief the
+loosening of a too-tight bandage gives to a wounded man. He generally
+came at tea-time when Fay was at her best, and he brought her news of
+her little world at Dariawarpur. To her sister he seemed the one link
+with reality. Without him the heavy dream would have gone on unbroken.
+Fay was always most eager he should take Jan out, and, though at first
+Jan had been unwilling, she gradually came to look upon such times as a
+blessed break in the monotonous restraint of her day. With him she was
+natural, said what she felt, expressed her fears, and never failed to
+return comforted and more hopeful.
+
+One night he took her to the Yacht Club, and Jan was glad she had gone,
+because it gave her so much to tell Fay when she got back.
+
+It was a very odd experience for Jan, this tea on the crowded lawn of
+the Yacht Club. She turned hot when people looked at her, and Jan had
+always felt so sure of herself before, so proud to be a daughter of
+brilliant, lovable Anthony Ross.
+
+Here, she knew that her sole claim to notice was that she had the
+misfortune to be Hugo Tancred's sister-in-law. Fay, too, had once been
+joyfully proud and confident--and now!
+
+Sometimes in the long, still days Jan wondered whether their father had
+brought them up to expect too much from life, to take their happiness
+too absolutely as a matter of course. Anthony Ross had fully subscribed
+to the R.L.S. doctrine that happiness is a duty. When they were both
+quite little girls he had loved to hear them repeat:
+
+    If I have faltered more or less
+    In my great task of happiness;
+    If I have moved among my race
+    And shown no glorious morning face;
+    If beams from happy human eyes
+    Have moved me not; if morning skies,
+    Books, and my food and summer rain
+    Knocked on my sullen heart in vain;
+    Lord, Thy most pointed pleasure take,
+    And stab my spirit broad awake.
+
+Surely as young girls they had both shown a "glorious morning face." Who
+more so than poor Fay? So gay and beautiful and kind. Why had this come
+upon her, this cruel, numbing disgrace and sorrow? Jan was thoroughly
+rebellious. Again she went over that time in Scotland six years before,
+when, at a big shooting-box up in Sutherland, they met, among other
+guests, handsome Hugo Tancred, home on leave. How he had, almost at
+first sight, fallen violently in love with Fay. How he had singled her
+out for every deferent and delicate attention; how she, young,
+enthusiastic, happy and flattered, had fallen quite equally in love with
+him. Jan recalled her father's rather comical dismay and astonishment.
+His horror when they pressed an immediate marriage, so that Fay might go
+out with Hugo in November. And his final giving-in to everything Fay
+wanted because Fay wanted it.
+
+Did her father really like Hugo Tancred? she wondered. And then came the
+certainty that he wouldn't ever have liked anybody much who wanted to
+marry either of them; but he was far too just and too imaginative to
+stand in the way where, what seemed, the happiness of his daughter was
+concerned.
+
+"What a gamble it all is," thought Jan, and felt inclined to thank
+heaven that she was neither so fascinating nor as susceptible as Fay.
+
+How were they to help to set Hugo Tancred on his legs again, and
+reconstruct something of a future for Fay? And then there always
+sounded, like a knell, Fay's tired, pathetic voice: "Don't bother to
+make plans for me, Jan. For the children, yes, as much as you like. You
+are so clever and constructive--but leave me out, dear, for it's just a
+waste of time."
+
+And the dreadful part of it was that Jan felt a growing conviction that
+Fay was right. And what was more, that Peter felt about it exactly as
+Fay did, in spite of his matter-of-fact optimism at all such times as
+Jan dared to express her dread.
+
+Peter learned a good deal about the Ross family in those talks with Jan.
+She was very frank about her affairs, told him what money she had and
+how it was invested. That the old house in Gloucestershire was hers,
+left directly to her and not to her father, by a curious freak on the
+part of his aunt, one Janet Ross, who disapproved of Anthony's habit of
+living up to whatever he made each year by his pictures, and saving
+nothing that he earned.
+
+"My little girls are safe, anyway," he always said. "Their mother's
+money is tied up on them, though they don't get it except with my
+sanction till my death. I can't touch the capital. Why, then, shouldn't
+we have an occasional flutter when I have a good year, while we are all
+young and can enjoy things?"
+
+They had a great many flutters--for Anthony's pictures sold well among a
+rather eclectic set. His portraits had a certain _cachet_ that gave them
+a vogue. They were delicate, distinguished, and unlike other work. The
+beauties without brains never succeeded in getting Anthony Ross to paint
+them, bribed they never so. But the clever beauties were well satisfied,
+and the clever who were not at all beautiful felt that Anthony Ross
+painted their souls, so they were satisfied, too. Besides, he made their
+sittings so delightful and flirted with them with such absolute
+discretion always. The year that Hugo Tancred met Fay was a particularly
+good year, and Anthony had bought a touring-car, and they all went up to
+Scotland in it. The girls were always well dressed and went out a good
+deal. Young as she was, Jan was already an excellent manager and a
+pleasant hostess. She had been taking care of her father from the time
+she was twelve years old, and knew exactly how to manage him. When there
+was plenty of money she let him launch out; when it was spent she made
+him draw in again, and he was always quite ready to do so. Money as
+money had no charms for Anthony Ross, but the pleasures it could
+provide, the kindnesses it enabled him to do, the easy travel and the
+gracious life were precious to him. He abhorred debt in any form and
+paid his way as he went; lavishly when he had it, justly and exactly
+always.
+
+On hearing all this Peter came to the conclusion that Hugo Tancred was
+not altogether to blame if he had expected a good deal more financial
+assistance from his father-in-law than he got. Anthony made no marriage
+settlement on Fay. He allowed her two hundred a year for her personal
+expenses and considered that Hugo Tancred should manage the running of
+his own house out of his quite comfortable salary. He had, of course, no
+smallest inkling of Hugo's debts or gambling propensities. And all might
+have gone well if only Anthony Ross had made a new will when Fay
+married; a will which tied up her mother's money and anything he might
+leave her, so that she couldn't touch the capital. But nothing of the
+kind was done.
+
+It never occurred to Jan to think of wills.
+
+Anthony Ross was strong and cheerful and so exceedingly young at
+fifty-two that it seemed absurd that he should have grown-up daughters,
+quite ludicrous that he should be a grandfather.
+
+Many charming ladies would greatly like to have occupied the position of
+stepmother to "those nice girls," but Anthony, universal lover as he was
+within strictly platonic limits, showed no desire to give his girls
+anything of the sort. Jan satisfied his craving for a gracious and
+well-ordered comfort in all his surroundings. Fay gratified his aesthetic
+appreciation of beauty and gentleness. What would he do with a third
+woman who might introduce discord into these harmonies?
+
+Fay came home for a short visit when Tony was six months old, as Hugo
+had not got a very good station just then. She was prettier than ever,
+seemed perfectly happy, and both Anthony and Jan rejoiced in her.
+
+After she went out the Tancreds moved to Dariawarpur, which was
+considered one of the best stations in their province, and there little
+Fay was born, and it was arranged that Jan and her father were to visit
+India and Fay during the next cold weather.
+
+But early in the following November Anthony Ross got influenza,
+recovered, went out too soon, got a fresh chill, and in two days
+developed double pneumonia.
+
+His heart gave out, and before his many friends had realised he was at
+all seriously ill, he died.
+
+Jan, stunned, bewildered, and heart-broken, yet contrived to keep her
+head. She got rid of the big house in St. George's Square and most of
+the servants, finally keeping only Hannah, her old Scottish nurse. She
+paid everybody, rendered a full account of her stewardship to Fay and
+Hugo, and then prepared to go out to India as had been arranged. Her
+heart cried out for her only sister.
+
+To her surprise this proposition met with but scant enthusiasm. It
+seemed the Tancreds' plans were uncertain; perhaps it might be better
+for Fay and the children to come home in spring instead of Jan going out
+to them. Hugo's letters were ambiguous and rather cold; Fay's a curious
+mixture of abandonment and restraint; but the prevailing note of both
+was "would she please do nothing in a hurry, but wait."
+
+So, of course, Jan waited.
+
+She waited two years, growing more anxious and puzzled as time went on.
+Her lawyer protested unavailingly at Hugo's perpetual demands (of
+course, backed up by Fay) for more and more capital that he might
+"re-invest" it. Fay's letters grew shorter and balder and more
+constrained. At last, quite suddenly, came the imperative summons to go
+out at once to be with Fay when the new baby should arrive.
+
+And now after three weeks in Bombay Jan felt that she had never known
+any other life, that she never would know any other life than this
+curious dream-like existence, this silent, hopeless waiting for
+something as afflicting as it was inevitable.
+
+There had been a great fire in the cotton green towards Colaba. It had
+blazed all night, and, in spite of the efforts of the Bombay firemen and
+their engines, was still blazing at six o'clock the following evening.
+
+Peter took Jan in his car out to see it. There was an immense crowd, so
+they left the car on its outskirts and plunged into the throng on foot.
+On either side of the road were tall, flimsy houses with a wooden
+staircase outside; those curious tenements so characteristic of the
+poorer parts of Bombay, and in such marked contrast to the "Fort," the
+European quarter of the town. They were occupied chiefly by Eurasians
+and very poor Europeans. That the road was a sea of mud, varied by quite
+deep pools of water, seemed the only possible reason why such houses
+were not also burning.
+
+Jan splashed bravely through the mud, interested and excited by the
+people and the leaping flames so dangerously near. It was growing dusk;
+the air was full of the acrid smell of burnt cotton, and the red glow
+from the sky was reflected on the grave brown faces watching the fire.
+
+Any crowd in Bombay is always extremely varied, and Jan almost forgot
+her anxieties in her enjoyment of the picturesque scene.
+
+"I don't think the people ought to be allowed to throng on the top of
+that staircase," Peter said suddenly. "They aren't built to hold a
+number at once; there'll be an accident," and he left her side for a
+moment to speak to an inspector of police.
+
+Jan looked up at a tall house on her left, where sightseers were
+collecting on the staircase to get a better view. Every window was
+crowded with gazers, all but one. From one, quite at the top, a solitary
+watcher looked out.
+
+There was a sudden shout from the crowd below, a redder glow as more
+piled cotton fell into the general furnace and blazed up, and in that
+moment Jan saw that the solitary watcher was Hugo Tancred, and that he
+recognised her. She gave a little gasp of horror, which Peter heard as
+he joined her again. "What is it?" he said. "What has frightened you?"
+
+Jan pointed upwards. "I've just seen Hugo," she whispered. "There, in
+one of those windows--the empty one. Oh, what can he be doing in those
+dreadful houses, and why is he in Bombay all this time and never a word
+to Fay?"
+
+Jan was trembling. Peter put his hand under her arm and walked on with
+her.
+
+"I knew he was in Bombay," he said, "but I didn't think the poor devil
+was reduced to this."
+
+"What is to be done?" Jan exclaimed. "If he comes and worries Fay for
+money now, it will kill her. She thinks he is safely out of India. What
+_is_ to be done?"
+
+"Nothing," said Peter. "He'll go the very minute he can, and you may be
+sure he'll raise the wind somehow. He's got all sorts of queer irons in
+the fire. He daren't appear at the flat, or some of his creditors would
+cop him for debt--it's watched day and night, I know. Just let it alone.
+I'd no idea he was hiding in this region or I wouldn't have brought you.
+We all want him to get clear. He might file his petition, but it would
+only rake up all the old scandals, and they know pretty well there's
+nothing to be got out of him."
+
+"He looked so dreadful, so savage and miserable," Jan said with a
+half-sob.
+
+"Well--naturally," said Peter. "You'd feel savage and miserable if you
+were in his shoes."
+
+"But oughtn't I to help him? Send him money, I mean."
+
+"Not one single anna. It'll take you all your time to get his family
+home and keep them when you get there. Have you seen enough? Shall we go
+back?"
+
+"You don't think he'll molest Fay?"
+
+"I'm certain of it."
+
+"Please take me home. I shall never feel it safe to leave Fay again for
+a minute."
+
+"That's nonsense, you know," said Peter.
+
+"It's what I feel," said Jan.
+
+It was that night Tony's extempore prayer was echoed so earnestly by his
+aunt.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+THE HUMAN TOUCH
+
+
+Three days later Jan got a note from Peter telling her that Hugo Tancred
+had left Bombay and was probably leaving India at once from one of the
+smaller ports.
+
+He had not attempted to communicate in person or by letter with either
+Jan or his wife.
+
+Early in the morning, just a week from the time Jan had seen Hugo
+Tancred at the window of that tall house near the cotton green, Fay's
+third child, a girl, was still-born; and Fay, herself, never recovered
+consciousness all day. A most competent nurse had been in the house
+nearly a week, the doctor had done all that human skill could do, but
+Fay continued to sink rapidly.
+
+About midnight the nurse, who had been standing by the bed with her
+finger on Fay's pulse, moved suddenly and gently laid down the weak hand
+she had been holding. She looked warningly across at Jan, who knelt at
+the other side, her eyes fixed on the pale, beautiful face that looked
+so wonderfully young and peaceful.
+
+Suddenly Fay opened her eyes and smiled. She looked right past Jan,
+exclaiming joyfully, "There you are at last, Daddie, and it's broad
+daylight."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+For Jan it was still the middle of the Indian night and very dark
+indeed.
+
+The servants were all asleep; the little motherless children safely
+wrapped in happy unconsciousness in their nursery with Ayah.
+
+The last sad offices had been done for Fay, and the nurse, tired out,
+was also sleeping--on Jan's bed.
+
+Jan, alone of all the household, kept watch, standing in the verandah, a
+ghostly figure, still in the tumbled white muslin frock she had had no
+time all day to change.
+
+It was nearly one o'clock. Motors and carriages were beginning to come
+back from Government House, where there was a reception. The motor-horns
+and horses' hoofs sounded loud in the wide silent street, and the head
+lights swept down the Queen's Road like fireflies in flight.
+
+Jan turned on the light in the verandah. Peter would perhaps look up and
+see her standing there, and realise why she kept watch. Perhaps he would
+stop and come up.
+
+She wanted Peter desperately.
+
+Compassed about with many relatives and innumerable friends at home, out
+here Jan was singularly alone. In all that great city she knew no one
+save Peter, the doctor and the nurse. Some few women, knowing all the
+circumstances, had called and were ready to be kind and helpful and
+friendly, as women are all over India, but Fay would admit none but
+Peter--even to see Jan; and always begged her not to return the calls
+"till it was all over."
+
+Well, it was all over now. Fay would never be timid and ashamed any
+more.
+
+Jan had not shed a tear. The longing to cry that had assailed her so
+continuously in her first week had entirely left her. She felt
+clear-headed and cold and bitterly resentful. She would like to have
+made Hugo Tancred go in front of her into that quiet room and forced him
+to look at the girlish figure on the bed--his handiwork. She wanted to
+hurt him, to make him more wretched than he was already.
+
+A car stopped in the street below. Jan went very quietly to the door of
+the flat and listened at the top of the staircase.
+
+Steps were on the stairs, but they stopped at one of the flats below.
+
+Presently another car stopped. Again she went out and listened. The
+steps came up and up and she switched on the light in the passage.
+
+This time it was Peter.
+
+He looked very tired.
+
+"I thought you would come," Jan said. "She died at midnight."
+
+Peter closed the outer door, and taking Jan by the arm led her back into
+the sitting-room, where he put her in a corner of the big sofa and sat
+down beside her.
+
+He could not speak, and Jan saw that the tears she could not shed were
+in his eyes, those large dark eyes that could appear so sombre and then
+again so kind.
+
+Jan watched him enviously. She was acutely conscious of trifling things.
+She even noticed what very black eyebrows he had and how--as always,
+when he was either angry or deeply moved--the veins in his forehead
+stood out in a strongly-marked V.
+
+"It was best, I think," Jan said, and even to herself her voice sounded
+like the voice of a stranger. "She would have been very unhappy if she
+had lived."
+
+Peter started at the cool, hard tones, and looked at her. Then, simply
+and naturally, like a child, he took her hand and held it; and there was
+that in the human contact, in the firm, comfortable clasp, that seemed
+to break something down in Jan, and all at once she felt weak and faint
+and trembling. She leaned her head against the pillows piled high in the
+corner where Fay had always rested. The electric light in the verandah
+seemed suddenly to recede to an immense distance and became a tiny
+luminous pin-head, like a far lone star.
+
+She heard Peter moving about in the dining-room behind and clinking
+things, but she felt quite incapable of going to see what he was doing
+or of trying to be hospitable--besides, it was his house, he knew where
+things were, and she was so tired.
+
+And then he was standing over her, holding a tumbler against her
+chattering teeth.
+
+"Drink it," he said, and, though his voice sounded far away, it was firm
+and authoritative. "Quick; don't pretend you can't swallow, for you
+can."
+
+He tipped the glass, and something wet and cold ran over her chin:
+anything was better than that, and she tried to drink. As she did so
+she realised she was thirsty, drank it all eagerly and gasped.
+
+"Have you had anything to eat all day?" the dominating voice went on; it
+sounded much nearer now.
+
+"I can't remember," she said, feebly. "Oh, why did you give me all that
+brandy, it's made me so muzzy and confused, and there's so much I ought
+to see to."
+
+"You rest a bit first--you'll be all right presently."
+
+Someone lifted her by the knees and put the whole of her on the sofa. It
+was very comfortable; she was not so cold now. She lay quite still and
+closed her eyes. She had not had a real night's sleep since she reached
+Bombay. Fay was always restless and nervous, and Jan had not had her
+clothes off for forty-eight hours. The long strain was over, there was
+nothing to watch and wait for now. She would do as that voice said, rest
+for a few minutes.
+
+There was a white chuddah shawl folded on the end of the sofa. Fay had
+liked it spread over her knees, for she was nearly always chilly.
+
+Peter opened it and laid it very lightly over Jan, who never stirred.
+
+Then he sat down in a comfortable chair some distance off, where she
+would see him if she woke, and reviewed the situation, which was
+unconventional, certainly.
+
+He had sent his car away when he arrived, as it was but a step to the
+Yacht Club where he slept. Now, he felt he couldn't leave, for if Jan
+woke suddenly she would feel confused and probably frightened.
+
+"I never thought so little brandy could have had such an effect," Peter
+reflected half ruefully. "I suppose it's because she'd had nothing to
+eat. It's about the best thing that could have happened, but I never
+meant to hocus her like this."
+
+There she lay, a long white mound under the shawl. She had slipped her
+hand under her cheek and looked pathetically young and helpless.
+
+"I wonder what I'd better do," thought Peter.
+
+Mrs. Grundy commanded him to go at once. Common humanity bade him stay.
+
+Peter was very human, and he stayed.
+
+About half-past five Jan woke. She was certainly confused, but not in
+the least frightened. It was light, not brilliantly light as it would be
+a little later on, but clear and opalescent, as though the sun were
+shining through fold upon fold of grey-blue gauze.
+
+The electric light in the verandah and the one over Peter's head were
+still burning and looked garish and wan, and Jan's first coherent
+thought was, "How dreadfully wasteful to have had them on all
+night--Peter's electric light, too"--and then she saw him.
+
+His body was crumpled up in the big chair; his legs were thrust out
+stiffly in front of him. He looked a heartrending interpretation of
+discomfort in his evening clothes, for he hadn't even loosened the
+collar. He had thought of it, but felt it might be disrespectful to Jan.
+Besides, there was something of the chaperon about that collar.
+
+Jan's tears that had refused to soften sorrow during the anguish of the
+night came now, hot and springing, to blur that absurd, pathetic figure
+looped sideways in the big chair.
+
+It was so plain why he was there.
+
+She sniffed helplessly (of course, she had lost her handkerchief), and
+thrust her knuckles into her eyes like any schoolboy.
+
+When she could see again she noticed how thin was the queer, irregular
+face, with dark hollows round the eyes.
+
+"I wonder if they feed him properly at that Yacht Club," thought Jan.
+"And here are we using his house and his cook and everything."
+
+She swung her feet off the sofa and disentangled them from the shawl,
+folded it neatly and sat looking at Peter, who opened his eyes.
+
+For a full minute they stared at each other in silence, then he
+stretched himself and rose.
+
+"I say, have you slept?" he asked.
+
+"Till a minute ago ... Mr. Ledgard ... why did you stay? It was angelic
+of you, but you must be so dreadfully tired. I feel absolutely rested
+and, oh, so grateful--but so ashamed...."
+
+"Then you must have some tea," said Peter, inconsequently. "I'll go and
+rouse up Lalkhan and the cook. We can't get any ourselves, for he locks
+up the whole show every blessed night."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+In the East burial follows death with the greatest possible speed. Peter
+and the doctor and the nurse arranged everything. A friend of Peter's
+who had little children sent for Ayah and Tony and little Fay to spend
+the day, and Jan was grateful.
+
+Fay and her baby were laid in the English cemetery, and Jan was left to
+face the children as best she could.
+
+They had been happy, Ayah said, with the kind lady and her children.
+Tony went straight to his mother's room, the room that had been closed
+to him for three whole days.
+
+He came back to Jan and stood in front of her, searching her face with
+his grave, judging gaze.
+
+"What have you done with my Mummy?" he asked. "Have you carried her away
+and put her somewhere like you do Fay when she's naughty? You're strong
+enough."
+
+"Oh, Tony!" Jan whispered piteously. "I would have kept her if I could,
+but I wasn't strong enough for that."
+
+"Who has taken her, then?" Tony persisted. "Where is she? I've been
+everywhere, and she isn't in the bungalow."
+
+"God has taken her, Tony."
+
+"What for?"
+
+"I think," Jan said, timidly, "it was because she was very tired and ill
+and unhappy----"
+
+"But is she happier now and better?"
+
+"I hope so, I believe she is ... quite happy and well."
+
+"You're sure?" And Tony's eyes searched Jan's face. "You're sure _you_
+haven't put her somewhere?"
+
+"Tony, I want Mummy every bit as much as you do. Be a little good to
+me, sonny, for I'm dreadfully sad."
+
+Jan held out her hand and Tony took it doubtfully. She drew him nearer.
+
+"Try to be good to me, Tony, and love me a little ... it's all so hard."
+
+"I'll be good," he said, gravely, "because I promised Mummy ... but I
+can't love you yet--because--" here Tony sighed deeply, "I don't seem to
+feel like it."
+
+"Never mind," said Jan, lifting him on to her knee. "Never mind. I'll
+love you an extra lot to make up."
+
+"And Fay?" he asked.
+
+"And Fay--we must both love Fay more than ever now."
+
+"I do love Fay," Tony said, "because I'm used to her. She's been here a
+long time...."
+
+Suddenly his mouth went down at the corners and he leant against Jan's
+shoulder to hide his face. "I do want Mummy so," he whispered, as the
+slow, difficult tears welled over and fell. "I like so much to look at
+her."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+It was early afternoon, the hot part of the day. The children were
+asleep and Jan sat on the big sofa, finishing a warm jersey for little
+Fay to wear towards the end of the voyage. Peter, by means of every
+scrap of interest he possessed, had managed to secure her a three-berth
+cabin in a mail boat due to leave within the next fortnight. He insisted
+that she must take Ayah, who was more than eager to go, and that Ayah
+could easily get a passage back almost directly with people he knew who
+were coming out soon after Jan got home. He had written to them, and
+they would write to meet the boat at Aden.
+
+There was nothing Peter did not seem able to arrange.
+
+In the flat below a lady was singing the "Indian Love Lyrics" from the
+"Garden of Khama." She had a powerful voice and sang with considerable
+passion.
+
+    Less than the dust beneath thy chariot wheel,
+    Less than the rust that never stained thy sword.
+
+Jan frowned and fidgeted.
+
+The song went on, finished, and then the lady sang it all over again.
+Jan turned on the electric fan, for it was extremely hot, and the strong
+contralto voice made her feel even hotter. The whirr of the fan in no
+way drowned the voice, which now went on to proclaim with much _brio_
+that the temple bells were ringing and the month of marriages was
+drawing near. And then, very slowly and solemnly, but quite as loudly as
+before, came "When I am dying, lean over me tenderly----"
+
+Jan got up and stamped. Then she went swiftly for her topee and gloves
+and parasol, and fled from the bungalow.
+
+Lalkhan rushed after her to ask if she wanted a "tikka-gharri." He
+strongly disapproved of her walking in the streets alone, but Jan shook
+her head. The lift-man was equally eager to procure one, but again Jan
+defeated his desire and walked out into the hot street. Somehow she
+couldn't bear "The Garden of Khama" just then. It was Hugo Tancred's
+favourite verse, and was among the few books Fay appeared to possess,
+Fay who was lying in the English cemetery, and so glad to be there ...
+at twenty-five.
+
+What was the good of life and love, if that was all it led to? In spite
+of the heat Jan walked feverishly and fast, down the shady side of the
+Mayo Road into Esplanade Road, where the big shops were, and, just then,
+no shade at all.
+
+The hot dust seemed to rise straight out of the pavement and strike her
+in the face, and all the air was full of the fat yellow smell that
+prevails in India when its own inhabitants have taken their mid-day
+meal.
+
+Each bare-legged gharri-man slumbered on the little box of his carriage,
+hanging on in that amazingly precarious fashion in which natives of the
+East seem able to sleep anywhere.
+
+On Jan went, anywhere, anywhere away from the garden of Khama and that
+travesty of love, as she conceived it. She remembered the day when she
+thought them such charming songs and thrilled in sympathy with Fay when
+Hugo sang them. Oh, why did that woman sing them to-day? Would she ever
+get the sound out of her ears?
+
+She had reached Churchgate Street, which was deserted and deep in shade.
+She turned down and presently came to the Cathedral standing in its trim
+garden bright with English flowers. The main door was open and Jan went
+in.
+
+Here the haunting love-lyrics were hushed. It was so still, not even a
+sweeper to break the blessed peace.
+
+Restlessly, Jan walked round the outer aisles, reading the inscriptions
+on marble tablets and brasses, many of them dating back to the later
+eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries. Men died young out in India
+in those days; hardly any seemed to live beyond forty-two, many died in
+the twenties. On nearly all the tablets the words "zeal" or "zealous"
+regularly appeared. With regard to their performance of their duties
+these dead and gone men who had helped to make the India of to-day had
+evidently had a very definite notion as to their own purpose in life.
+The remarks were guarded and remarkably free from exaggerated tributes
+to the virtues they celebrated. One Major-General Bellasis was described
+as "that very respectable Officer--who departed this life while he was
+in the meritorious discharge of his duty presiding at the Military
+Board." Others died "from exposure to the sun"; nearly all seemed to
+have displayed "unremitting" or "characteristic zeal" in the discharge
+of their duties.
+
+Jan sat down, and gradually it seemed as though the spirits and souls of
+those departed men, those ordinary everyday men--whose descendants might
+probably be met any day in the Yacht Club now--seemed to surround her in
+a great company, all pointing in one direction and with one voice
+declaring, "This is the WAY."
+
+Jan fell on her knees and prayed that her stumbling feet might be
+guided upon it, that she should in no wise turn aside, however steep and
+stony it might prove.
+
+And as she knelt there came upon her the conviction that here was the
+true meaning of life as lived upon the earth; just this, that each
+should do his job.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+THE END OF THE DREAM
+
+
+She walked back rather slowly. It was a little cooler, but dusty, and
+the hot pavements made her feet ache. She was just wondering whether she
+would take a gharri when a motor stopped at the curb and Peter got out.
+
+"What are you doing?" he asked crossly. "Why are you walking in all this
+heat? You can't play these games in India. Get in."
+
+He held the door open for her.
+
+"Good afternoon, Mr. Ledgard," Jan said, sweetly. "Is it worth while for
+such a little way?"
+
+"Get in," Peter said again, and Jan meekly got in.
+
+"I was just coming to see you, and I could have taken you anywhere you
+wanted to go, if only you'd waited. Why didn't you take a gharri?"
+
+"Since you must know," Jan said, smiling at the angry Peter, "I went out
+because I wanted to go out. And I walked because I wanted to walk."
+
+"You can't do things just because you want to do 'em in this infernal
+country--you must consider whether it's a suitable time."
+
+Jan made no answer, and silence reigned till they reached the bungalow.
+
+Peter followed her in.
+
+"Where did you go?" he asked. "And why?"
+
+"I went to the Cathedral, and my reason was that I simply couldn't stay
+in the bungalow because the lady below was singing 'Less than the
+dust.'"
+
+"I know," Peter said grimly. "Just the sort of thing she would sing."
+
+"She sang very well," Jan owned honestly, "but when Fay was first
+engaged she and Hugo used to sing those songs to each other--it seemed
+all day long--and this afternoon I couldn't bear it. It seemed such a
+sham somehow--so false and unreal, if it only led--to this."
+
+"It's real enough while it lasts, you know," Peter remarked in the
+detached, elderly tone he sometimes adopted. "That sort of thing's all
+right for an episode, but it's a bit too thin for marriage."
+
+"But surely episodes often end in marriage?"
+
+"Not that sort, and if they do it's generally pretty disastrous. A woman
+who felt she was less than the dust and rust and weeds and all that rot
+wouldn't be much good to a man who had to do his job, for she wouldn't
+do hers, you know."
+
+"Then you, too, think that's the main thing--to do your job?"
+
+"It seems to me it's the only thing that justifies one's existence.
+Anyway, to try to do it decently."
+
+"And you don't think one ought to expect to be happy and have things go
+smoothly?"
+
+"Well, they won't always, you know, whether you expect it or not; but
+the job remains, so it's just as well to make up your mind to it."
+
+"I suppose," Jan said thoughtfully, "that's a religion."
+
+"It pans out as well as most," said Peter.
+
+The days that had gone so slowly went quickly enough now. Jan had much
+to arrange and no word came from Hugo. She succeeded in getting the
+monthly bills from the cook, and paid them, and very timidly she asked
+Peter if she might pay the wages for the time his servants had waited
+upon them; but Peter was so huffy and cross she never dared to mention
+it again.
+
+The night before they all sailed Peter dined with her, and, after
+dinner, took her for one last drive over Malabar Hill. The moon was
+full, and when they reached Ridge Road he stopped the car and they got
+out and stood on the cliff, looking over the city just as they had done
+on her first evening in Bombay.
+
+Some scented tree was in bloom and the air was full of its soft
+fragrance.
+
+For some minutes they stood in silence, then Jan broke it by asking:
+"Mr. Ledgard, could Hugo take the children from me?"
+
+"He could, of course, legally--but I don't for a minute imagine he will,
+for he couldn't keep them. What about his people? Will they want to
+interfere?"
+
+"I don't think so; from the little he told us they are not very well
+off. They live in Guernsey. His father was something in salt, I think,
+out here. We've none of us seen them. They didn't come to Fay's
+wedding. I gather they are very strict in their views--both his father
+and mother--and there are two sisters. But Fay said Hugo hardly ever
+wrote--or heard from them."
+
+"There's just one thing you must face, Miss Ross," and Peter felt a
+brute as he looked at Jan pale and startled in the bright moonlight.
+"Hugo Tancred might marry again."
+
+"Oh, surely no one would marry him after all this!"
+
+"Whoever did would probably know nothing of 'all this.' Remember Hugo
+Tancred has a way with women; he's a fascinating chap when he likes,
+he's good-looking and plausible, and always has an excellent reason for
+all his misfortunes. If he does marry again he'll marry money, and
+_then_ he might demand the children."
+
+"Perhaps she wouldn't want them."
+
+"We'll hope not."
+
+"And I can do nothing--nothing to make them safe?"
+
+"I fear--nothing--only your best for them."
+
+"I'll do that," said Jan.
+
+They stood shoulder to shoulder in the scented stillness of the night.
+The shadows were black and sharp in the bright moonlight and the
+tom-toms throbbed in the city below.
+
+"I wonder," Jan said presently, "if I shall ever be able to do anything
+for you, Mr. Ledgard. You have done everything for us out here."
+
+"Would you really like to do something?" Peter asked eagerly. "I
+wouldn't have mentioned it if you hadn't said that just now. Would you
+write pretty often? You see, I've no people of my very own. Aunts and
+uncles and cousins don't keep in touch with one out here. They're kind,
+awfully kind when I go home on leave, but it takes a man's own folk to
+remember to write every mail."
+
+"I'll write every mail," Jan promised eagerly, "and when you take your
+next leave, remember we expect you at Wren's End."
+
+"I'll remember," said Peter, "and it may be sooner than you think."
+
+They sailed next day. Jan had spent six weeks in Bombay, and the whole
+thing seemed a dream.
+
+The voyage back was very different from the voyage out. The boat was
+crowded, and nearly all were Service people going home on leave. Jan
+found them very kind and friendly, and the children, with plenty of
+others to play with, were for the most part happy and good.
+
+The journey across France was rather horrid. Little Fay was as
+obstreperous as Tony was disagreeably silent and aloof. Jan thanked
+heaven when the crowded train steamed into Charing Cross.
+
+There, at the very door of their compartment, a girl was waiting. A girl
+so small, she might have been a child except for a certain decision and
+capability about everything she did. She seized Jan, kissed her
+hurriedly and announced that she had got a nice little furnished flat
+for them till they should go to the country, and that Hannah had tea
+ready; this young person, herself, helped to carry their smaller
+baggage to a taxi, packed them in, demanded Jan's keys and announced
+that she would bring the luggage in another taxi. She gave the address
+to the man, and a written slip to Jan, and vanished to collect their
+cabin baggage.
+
+It was all done so briskly and efficiently that it left Ayah and the
+children quite breathless, accustomed as they were to the leisurely
+methods of the East.
+
+"Who is vat mem?" asked little Fay, as the taxi door was slammed by this
+energetic young person.
+
+"Is she quite a mem?" suggested the accurate Tony. "Is she old enough or
+big enough?"
+
+"Who is vat mem?" little Fay repeated.
+
+"That," said Jan with considerable satisfaction in her voice, "is Meg."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+MEG
+
+
+It was inevitable as the refrain of a _rondeau_ that when Jan said
+"that's Meg" little Fay should demand "What nelse?"
+
+Now there was a good deal of "nelse" about Meg, and she requires some
+explanation, going back several years.
+
+Like most Scots, Anthony Ross had been faithful to his relations whether
+he felt affection for them or not; sometimes even when they had not a
+thought in common with him and he rather disliked them than otherwise.
+
+And this was so in the case of one Amelia Ross, his first cousin, who
+was head-mistress of a flourishing and well-established school for
+"young ladies," in the Regent's Park district.
+
+She had been a head-mistress for many years, and was well over fifty
+when she married a meek, small, nothingly man who had what Thackeray
+calls "a little patent place." And it appeared that she added the
+husband to the school in much the same spirit as she would have
+increased the number of chairs in her dining-room, and with no more
+appreciable result in her life. On her marriage she became Mrs.
+Ross-Morton, and Mr. Morton went in and out of the front door,
+breakfasted and dined at Ribston Hall, caught his bus at the North Gate
+and went daily to his meek little work. It is presumed that he lived on
+terms of affectionate intimacy with his wife, but no one who saw them
+together could have gathered this.
+
+Now Anthony Ross disliked his cousin Amelia. He detested her school,
+which he considered was one of the worst examples of a bad old period.
+He suspected her of being hard and grasping, he knew she was dull, and
+her husband bored him--not to tears, but to profanity. Yet since she was
+his cousin and a hard-working, upright woman, and since they had played
+together as children in Scotland and her father and mother had been kind
+to him then, he could never bring himself to drop Amelia. Not for worlds
+would he have allowed Jan or Fay to go to her school, but he did allow
+them, or rather he humbly entreated them, to visit it occasionally when
+invited to some function or other. Jan's education after her mother's
+death had been the thinnest scrape sandwiched between many household
+cares and much attendance upon her father's whims. Fay was allowed
+classes and visiting governesses, but their father could never bring
+himself to spare either of them to the regular discipline of school, and
+Cousin Amelia bewailed the desultory training of Anthony's children.
+
+In 1905, Jan and Fay had been to a party at Ribston Hall: tea in the
+garden followed by a pastoral play. Anthony was sitting in the balcony,
+smoking, when the girls came back. He saw their hansom and ran
+downstairs to meet them, as he always did. They were a family who went
+in for affectionate greetings.
+
+"Daddie," cried Fay, seizing her father by the arm, "one of the seven
+wonders of the world has happened. We have found an interesting person
+at Ribston Hall."
+
+Jan took the other arm. "We can't possibly tell you all about it under
+an hour, so we'd better go and sit in the balcony." And they gently
+propelled him towards the staircase.
+
+"Not if you're going to discuss Cousin Amelia," Anthony protested. "You
+have carrying voices, both of you."
+
+"Cousin Amelia is only incidental," Jan said, when they were all three
+seated in the balcony. "The main theme is concerned with a queer little
+pixie creature called Meg Morton. She's a pupil-governess, and she's
+sixteen and a half--just the same age as Fay."
+
+"She doesn't reach up to Jan's elbow," Fay added, "and she chaperons the
+girls for music and singing, and sits in the drawing-class because the
+master can't be quite seventy yet."
+
+"She's the wee-est thing you ever saw, and they dress her in Cousin
+Amelia's discarded Sunday frocks."
+
+"That's impossible," Anthony interrupted. "Amelia is so massive and
+square; if the girl's so small she'd look like 'the Marchioness.'"
+
+"She does, she does!" Jan cried delightedly. "Of course the garments are
+'made down,' but in the most elderly way possible. Daddie, can you
+picture a Botticelli angel of sixteen, with masses of Titian-red hair,
+clad in a queer plush garment once worn by Cousin Amelia, that retains
+all its ancient frumpiness of line. And it's not only her appearance
+that's so quaint, _she_ is quaint inside."
+
+"We were attracted by her hair," Fay went on "(You'll go down like a
+ninepin before that hair), and we got her in a corner and hemmed her in
+and declared it was her duty to attend to us because we were strangers
+and shy, and in three minutes we were friends. Sixteen, Daddie! And a
+governess-pupil in Cousin Amelia's school. She's a niece of the little
+husband, and Cousin Amelia is preening herself like anything because she
+takes her for nothing and makes her work like ten people."
+
+"Did the little girl say so?"
+
+"Of course not," Jan answered indignantly, "but Cousin Amelia did. Oh,
+how thankful I am she is _your_ cousin, dear, and once-removed from us!"
+
+"How many generations will it take to remove her altogether?" Fay asked.
+"However," she added, "if we can have the pixie out and give her a good
+time I shan't mind the relationship so much. We _must_ do something,
+Daddie. What shall it be?"
+
+Anthony Ross smoked thoughtfully and said very little. Perhaps he did
+not even listen with marked attention, because he was enjoying his
+girls. Just to see them healthy and happy; to know that they were
+naturally kind and gay; to hear them frank and eager and
+loquacious--sometimes gave him a sensation of almost physical pleasure.
+He was like an idler basking in the sun, conscious of nothing but just
+the warmth and comfort of it.
+
+Whatever those girls wanted they always got. Anthony's diplomacy was
+requisitioned and was, as usual, successful; for, in spite of her
+disapproval, Mrs. Ross-Morton could never resist her cousin's charm.
+This time the result was that one Saturday afternoon in the middle of
+June little Meg Morton, bearing a battered leather portmanteau and clad
+in the most-recently-converted plush abomination, appeared at the tall
+house in St. George's Square to stay over the week-end.
+
+It was the mid-term holiday, and from the first moment to the last the
+visit was one almost delirious orgy of pleasure to the little
+pupil-governess.
+
+It was also a revelation.
+
+It would be hard to conceive of anything odder than the appearance of
+Meg Morton at this time. She just touched five feet in height, and was
+very slenderly and delicately made, with absurd, tiny hands and feet.
+Yet there was a finish about the thin little body that proclaimed her
+fully grown. Her eyes, with their thick, dark lashes, looked overlarge
+in the pale little pointed face; strange eyes and sombre, with big,
+bright pupil, and curious dark-blue iris flecked with brown. Her
+features were regular, and her mouth would have been pretty had the lips
+not lacked colour. As it was, all the colour about Meg seemed
+concentrated in her hair; red as a flame and rippled as a river under a
+fresh breeze. There was so much of it, too, the little head seemed bowed
+in apology beneath its weight.
+
+Yet for the time being Meg forgot to be apologetic about her hair, for
+Anthony and his girls frankly admired it.
+
+These adorable, kind, amusing people actually admired it, and said so.
+Hitherto Meg's experience had been that it was a thing to be slurred
+over, like a deformity. If mentioned, it was to be deprecated. In the
+strictly Evangelical circles where hitherto her lot had been cast, they
+even tried vainly to explain it away.
+
+She had, of course, heard of artists, but she never expected to meet
+any. That sort of thing lay outside the lives of those who had to make
+their living as quickly as possible in beaten tracks; tracks so
+well-beaten, in fact, that all the flowers had been trodden underfoot
+and exterminated.
+
+Meg, at sixteen, had received so little from life that her expectations
+were of the humblest. And as she stood before the glass in a pretty
+bedroom, fastening her one evening dress (of shiny black silk that
+crackled, made with the narrow V in front affected by Mrs. Ross-Morton),
+preparatory to going to the play for the first time in her life, she
+could have exclaimed, like the little old woman of the story, "This be
+never I!"
+
+Anthony Ross was wholly surprising to Meg.
+
+This handsome, merry gentleman with thick, brown hair as crinkly as her
+own; who was domineered over and palpably adored by these two, to her,
+equally amazing girls--seemed so very, very young to be anybody's
+father.
+
+He frankly owned to enjoying things.
+
+Now, according to Meg's experience, grown-up people--elderly
+people--seldom enjoyed anything; above all, never alluded to their
+enjoyment.
+
+Life was a thing to be endured with fortitude, its sorrows borne with
+Christian resignation; its joys, if there were any joys, discreetly
+slurred over. Joys were insidious, dangerous things that might lead to
+the leaving undone of obvious duties. To seek joy and insure its being
+shared by others, bravely and honestly believing it to be an excellent
+thing, was to Meg an entirely unknown frame of mind.
+
+After the play, in Meg's room the three girls were brushing their hair
+together; to be accurate, Jan was brushing Fay's and Meg admiring the
+process.
+
+"Have you any sisters?" Jan asked. She was always interested in people's
+relations.
+
+"No," said Meg. "There are, mercifully, only three of us, my two
+brothers and me. If there had been any more I don't know what my poor
+little Papa would have done."
+
+"Why do you call him your 'poor little papa'?" Fay asked curiously.
+
+"Because he is poor--dreadfully--and little, and very melancholy. He
+suffers so from depression."
+
+"Why?" asked the downright Jan.
+
+"Partly because he has indigestion, _constant_ indigestion, and then
+there's us, and boys are so expensive, they will grow so. It upsets him
+dreadfully."
+
+"But they can't help growing," Fay objected.
+
+"It wouldn't matter so much if they didn't both do it at once. But you
+see, there's only a year between them, and they're just about the same
+size. If only one had been smaller, he could have worn the outgrown
+things. As it is, it's always new clothes for both of them. Papa's are
+no sort of use, and even the cheapest suits cost a lot, and boots are
+perfectly awful."
+
+Meg looked so serious that Fay and Jan, who were like the lilies of the
+field, and expected new and pretty frocks at reasonable intervals as a
+matter of course, looked serious too; for the first time confronted by a
+problem whose possibility they had never even considered before.
+
+"He must be pleased with you," Jan said, encouragingly. "_You're_ not
+too big."
+
+"Yes, but then I'm not a boy. Papa's clothes would have made down for me
+beautifully if I'd been a boy; as it is, they're no use." Meg sighed,
+then added more cheerfully. "But I cost less in other ways, and several
+relations send old clothes to me. They are never too small."
+
+"Do you like the relations' clothes?" Fay asked.
+
+"Of course not," said Meg, simply. "They are generally hideous; but,
+after all, they cover me and save expense."
+
+The spoiled daughters of Anthony Ross gazed at Meg with horror-stricken
+eyes. To them this seemed a most tragic state of things.
+
+"Do they all," Fay asked timidly, "wear such ... rich materials--like
+Cousin Amelia?"
+
+"They're fond of plush, as a rule, but there's velveteen as well, and
+sometimes a cloth dress. One was mustard-coloured, and embittered my
+life for a whole year."
+
+Jan suddenly ceased to brush Fay's hair and went and sat on the bed
+beside Meg and put her arm round her. Fay's pretty face, framed in
+fluffy masses of fair hair, was solemn in excess of sympathy.
+
+"I shouldn't care a bit if only the boys were through Sandhurst and
+safely into the Indian Army--but I do hate them having to go without
+nearly everything. Trevor's a King's Cadet, but they wouldn't give us
+two cadetships ... Still," she added, more cheerfully, "it's cheaper
+than anything else for a soldier's son."
+
+"Is your father a soldier?" asked Jan.
+
+"Oh, yes, a major in the Westshires; but he had to leave the Army
+because of his health, and his pension is very small, and mother had so
+little money. I sometimes think it killed her trying to do everything on
+nothing."
+
+"Were you quite small when she died?" Fay asked in a sympathetic
+whisper.
+
+"Oh, no; I was nearly twelve, and quite as big as I am now. Then I kept
+house while the boys were at Bedford, but when they went to Sandhurst
+poor little Papa thought I'd better get some education, too, and Uncle
+John's wife offered to take me for nothing, so here I am. HERE, it's too
+wonderful. Who could have dreamed that Ribston Hall would lead to this?"
+And Meg snuggled down in Jan's kind embrace, her red hair spread around
+her like a veil.
+
+"Are some of the richly-dressed relations nice?" Jan asked hopefully.
+
+"I don't know if you'd think them nice--you seem to expect such a lot
+from people--but they're quite kind--only it's a different sort of
+kindness from yours here. They don't laugh and expect you to enjoy
+yourself, like _your_ father. My brothers say they are dull ... they
+call them--I'm afraid it's very ungrateful--the weariful rich. But I
+expect we're weariful to them too. I suppose poor relations _are_ boring
+if you're well-off yourself. But we get pretty tired, too, when they
+talk us over."
+
+"But do you mean to say they talk you over _to_ you?"
+
+"Always," Meg said firmly. "How badly we manage, how improvident we are,
+how Papa ought to rouse himself and I ought to manage better, and how
+foolish it is to let the boys go into the Army instead of banks and
+things ... And yet, you know, it hasn't cost much for Trevor, and once
+he's in he'll be able to manage, and Jo said he'd enlist if there was
+any more talk of banks, and poor little Papa had to give in--so there it
+is."
+
+"How much older are they than you?" Jan asked.
+
+"Trevor's nineteen and Jo's eighteen, and they are the greatest darlings
+in the world. They always lifted the heavy saucepans for me at Bedford,
+and filled the buckets and did the outsides of the windows, and carried
+up the coals to Papa's sitting-room before they went to school in the
+morning, and they very seldom grumbled at my cooking...."
+
+"But where were the servants?" Fay asked innocently.
+
+Meg laughed. "Oh, we couldn't have any servants. A woman came in the
+morning. Papa dined at his club, and I managed for the boys and me. But,
+oh dear, they do eat a lot, and joints are so dear. Sheep's heads and
+things pall if you have them more than once a week. They're such a mixty
+sort of meat, so gummy."
+
+"_I_ can cook," Jan announced, then added humbly, "at least, I've been
+to classes, but I don't get much practice. Cook isn't at all fond of
+having me messing in her kitchen."
+
+"It isn't the cooking that's so difficult," said Meg; "it's getting
+things to cook. It's all very well for the books to say 'Take' this and
+that. My experience is that you can never 'take' anything. You have to
+buy every single ingredient, and there's never anything like enough. We
+tried being fruitarians and living on dates and figs and nuts all
+squashed together, but it didn't seem to come a bit cheaper, for the
+boys were hungry again directly and said it was hog-wash."
+
+"Was your papa a fruitarian too?" Fay asked.
+
+"Oh, no, he can't play those tricks; he has to be most careful. He never
+had his meals with us. Our meals would have been too rough for him. I
+got him breakfast and afternoon tea. He generally went out for the
+others."
+
+Jan and Fay looked thoughtful.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Amelia Ross-Morton was a fair judge of character. When she consented to
+take her husband's niece as a governess-pupil she had been dubious as to
+the result. She very soon discovered, however, that the small red-haired
+girl was absolutely trustworthy, that she had a power of keeping order
+quite disproportionate to her size, that she got through a perfectly
+amazing amount of work, and did whatever she was asked as a matter of
+course. Thus she became a valuable factor in the school, receiving
+nothing in return save her food and such clothes as Mrs. Ross-Morton
+considered too shabby for her own wear.
+
+At the end of the first year Meg ceased to receive any lessons. Her day
+was fully occupied in teaching the younger and chaperoning the elder
+girls. Only one stipulation did she make at the beginning of each
+term--that she should be allowed to accept, on all reasonable occasions,
+the invitations of Anthony Ross and his daughters, and she made this
+condition with so much firmness that Anthony's cousin knew better than
+to be unreasonably domineering, as was her usual habit. Moreover, though
+it was against her principles to do anything to further the enjoyment
+of persons in a subordinate position, she was, in a way, flattered that
+Anthony and his girls should thus single out her "niece by marriage" and
+appear to enjoy her society.
+
+Thus it came about that Meg went a good deal to St. George's Square and
+nearly always spent part of each holiday with Fay and Jan wherever they
+happened to be.
+
+The queer clothes were kept for wear at Ribston Hall, and by
+degrees--although she never had any money--she became possessed of
+garments more suitable to her age and colouring.
+
+Again and again Anthony painted her. She sat for him with untiring
+patience and devotion. She was always entirely at her ease with him, and
+prattled away quite simply of the life that seemed to him so
+inexpressibly hard and dreary.
+
+Only once had he interfered on her behalf at Ribston Hall, and then
+sorely against Meg's will. She was sitting for him one day, with her
+veil of flaming hair spread round her, when she said, suddenly, "I
+wonder why it is incorrect to send invitations by post to people living
+in the same town?"
+
+"But it isn't," Anthony objected. "Everybody does it."
+
+"Not in schools," Meg said firmly. "Mrs. Ross-Morton will never send
+invitations to people living in London through the post--she says it
+isn't polite. They must go by hand."
+
+"I never heard such nonsense," Anthony exclaimed crossly. "If she
+doesn't send 'em by post, how _does_ she send them?"
+
+"I take them generally, in the evening, after school, and deliver them
+at all the houses. Some are fairly near, of course--a lot of her friends
+live in Regent's Park--but sometimes I have to go quite a long way by
+bus. I don't mind that in summer, when it's light, but in winter it's
+horrid going about the lonely roads ... People speak to one...."
+
+Anthony Ross stepped from behind his easel.
+
+"And what do you do?" he asked.
+
+"I run," Meg said simply, "and I can generally run much faster than they
+do ... but it's a little bit frightening."
+
+"It's infernal," Anthony said furiously. "I shall speak to Amelia at
+once. You are never to do it again."
+
+In vain did Meg plead, almost with tears, that he would do nothing of
+the kind. He was roused and firm.
+
+He did "speak to Amelia." He astonished that good lady as much as he
+annoyed her. Nevertheless Mrs. Ross-Morton used the penny post for her
+invitations as long as Meg remained at Ribston Hall.
+
+At the end of two years Major Morton, who had removed from Bedford to
+Cheltenham, wrote a long, querulous letter to his sister-in-law to the
+effect that if--like the majority of girls nowadays--his daughter chose
+to spend her life far from his sheltering care, it was time she earned
+something.
+
+Mrs. Ross-Morton replied that only now was Meg beginning to repay all
+the expense incurred on her behalf in the way of board, clothing and
+tuition; and it was most unreasonable to expect any salary for quite
+another year.
+
+Major Morton decided to remove Meg from Ribston Hall.
+
+Many acrimonious letters passed between her aunt and her father before
+this was finally accomplished, and Meg left "under a cloud."
+
+To her great astonishment, her meek little uncle appeared at Paddington
+to see her off. Just as the train was starting he thrust an envelope
+into her hand.
+
+"It hasn't been fair," he almost shouted--for the train was already
+beginning to move. "You worked hard, you deserved some pay ... a little
+present ... but please don't mention it to your aunt ... She is so
+decided in her views...."
+
+When Meg opened the envelope she found three ten-pound notes. She had
+never seen so much money before, and burst into tears; but it was not
+because of the magnitude of the gift. She felt she had never properly
+appreciated her poor little uncle, and her conscience smote her.
+
+This was at Christmas.
+
+The weariful rich sat in conclave over Meg, and it was decided that she
+should in March go as companion and secretary to a certain Mrs. Trent
+slightly known to one of them.
+
+Mrs. Trent was kindly, careless, and quite generous as regards money.
+She had grown-up daughters, and they lived in one of the Home Counties
+where there are many country-houses and plenty of sport. Meg proved to
+be exceedingly useful, did whatever she was asked to do, and a great
+many things no one had ever done before. She shared in the fun, and for
+the first time since her mother died was not overworked.
+
+Her employer was as keen on every form of pleasure as her own daughters.
+She exercised the very smallest supervision over them and none at all
+over the "quite useful" little companion.
+
+Many men came to the easy-going, lavish house, and Meg, with pretty
+frocks, abundant leisure and deliriously prim Ribston-Hallish manners,
+came in for her full share of admiration.
+
+It happened that at the end of July Anthony Ross came up to London in
+the afternoon to attend and speak at a dinner in aid of some artists'
+charity. He and Jan were staying with friends at Teddington; Fay, an
+aunt and the servants were already at Wren's End--all but Hannah, the
+severe Scottish housemaid, who remained in charge. She was grim and
+gaunt and plain, with a thick, black moustache, and Anthony liked her
+less than he could have wished. But she had been Jan's nurse, and was
+faithful and trustworthy beyond words. He would never let Jan go to the
+country ahead of him, for without her he always left behind everything
+most vital to his happiness, so she was to join him next day and see
+that his painting-tackle was all packed.
+
+The house in St. George's Square was nominally shut up and shrouded in
+dust-sheets, but Hannah had "opened up" the dining-room on Anthony's
+behalf, and there he sat and slumbered till she should choose to bring
+him some tea.
+
+He was awakened by an opening door and Hannah's voice announcing, not
+tea, but:
+
+"Miss Morton to see you, sir."
+
+There seemed a thousand "r's" in both the Morton and the sir, and
+Anthony, who felt that there was something ominous and arresting in
+Hannah's voice, was wide-awake before she could shut the door again.
+
+Sure enough it was Meg, clad in a long grey dust-cloak and motor bonnet,
+the grey veil flung back from a very pale face.
+
+Meg, looking a wispy little shadow of woe.
+
+Anthony came forward with outstretched hands.
+
+"Meg, my child, what good wind has blown you here this afternoon? I
+thought you were having ever such a gay time down in the country."
+
+But Meg made no effort to grasp the greeting hands. On the contrary, she
+moved so that the whole width of the dining-room table was between them.
+
+"Wait," she said, "you mustn't shake hands with me till I tell you what
+I've done ... perhaps you won't want to then."
+
+And Anthony saw that she was trembling.
+
+"Come and sit down," he said. "Something's wrong, I can see. What is
+it?"
+
+But she stood where she was, looking at him with large, tragic eyes;
+laid down a leather despatch-case she was carrying, and seized the edge
+of the table as if for support.
+
+"I'd rather not sit down yet," she said. "Perhaps when you've heard what
+I've got to tell you, you'll never want me to sit down in your house
+again ... and yet ... I did pray so you'd be here ... I knew it was most
+unlikely ... but I did pray so ... And you _are_ here."
+
+Anthony was puzzled. Meg was not given to making scenes or going into
+heroics.
+
+It was evident that something had happened to shake her out of her usual
+almost cynical calm.
+
+"You'd be much better to sit down," he said, soothingly. "You see, if
+you stand, so must I, and it's such an uncomfortable way of talking."
+
+She pulled out a chair and sat down at the table, took off her gloves,
+and two absurd small thumbs appeared above its edge, the knuckles white
+and tense with the strength of her grip.
+
+Anthony seated himself in a deep chair beside the fireplace. He was in
+shadow. Meg faced the light, and he was shocked at the appearance of the
+little smitten face.
+
+"Now tell me," he said gently, "just as little or as much as you like."
+
+"This morning," she said hoarsely, "I ran away with a man ... in a
+motor-car."
+
+Anthony was certainly startled, but all he said was, "That being the
+case, why are you here, my dear, and what have you done with him?"
+
+"He was married...."
+
+"Have you only just found that out?"
+
+"No, I knew it all along. His wife is hard and disagreeable and older
+than he is ... and he's thirty-five ... and they can't live together,
+and she won't divorce him and he can't divorce her ... and I loved him
+so much and thought how beautiful it would be to give up everything and
+make it up to him."
+
+"Yes?" said Anthony, for Meg paused as though unable to go on.
+
+"And it seemed very wonderful and noble to do this, and I forgot my poor
+little Papa and those boys in India, and you and Jan and Fay and ... I
+was very mad and very happy ... till this morning, when we actually went
+off in his car."
+
+"But where," Anthony asked in a voice studiously even and quiet, "_are_
+he and his car?"
+
+"I don't know," Meg said hopelessly, "unless they're still at the place
+where we had lunch ... and I don't suppose he'd stay there all this
+time...."
+
+Anthony felt a great desire to laugh, but Meg looked so woebegone and
+desperately serious that he restrained the impulse and said very kindly:
+"I don't yet understand how, having embarked upon such an enterprise,
+you happen to be here ... alone. Did you quarrel at lunch, or what?"
+
+"We didn't _have_ lunch," Meg exclaimed with a sob. "At least, I didn't
+... it was the lunch that did it."
+
+"Did what?"
+
+"Made me realise what I had done, and go away."
+
+"Meg dear," said Anthony, striving desperately to keep his voice steady,
+"was it a very bad lunch?"
+
+"I don't know," she answered with the utmost seriousness. "We hadn't
+begun; we were just going to, when I noticed his hands, and his nails
+were dirty, and they looked horrid, and suddenly it came over me that if
+I stayed ... those hands...."
+
+She let go of the table, put her elbows upon it and hid her face in her
+hands.
+
+Anthony made no sound, and presently, still with hidden face, she went
+on again:
+
+"And in that minute I saw what I was doing, and that I could never be
+the same again, and I remembered my poor little dyspeptic Papa, and my
+dear, dear brothers so far away in India ... and you and Jan and
+Fay--_all_ the special people I pray for every single night and
+morning--and I felt that if I didn't get away that minute I should
+die...."
+
+"And how did you get away?"
+
+"It was quite simple. There was something wrong with the car (that's how
+he got his hands so dirty), and he'd sent for a mechanic, and just as we
+were sitting down to lunch, the waiter said the motor-man had come ...
+and he went out to the garage to speak to him...."
+
+"Yes?" Anthony remarked, for again Meg paused.
+
+"So I just walked out of the front door. No one saw me, and the station
+was across the road, and I went right in and asked when there was a
+train to London, and there _was_ one going in five minutes; so I took a
+ticket and came straight here, for I knew somehow, even if you were all
+away, Hannah would let me stay ... just to-night. I knew she would ..."
+and Meg began to sob feebly.
+
+And, as if in response to the mention of her name, Hannah appeared,
+bearing a tray with tea upon it. Hannah was short and square; she
+stumped as she walked, and she carried a tray very high and stately, as
+though it were a sacrifice. As she came in Meg rose and hastily moved to
+the window, standing there with her back to the room.
+
+"I thocht," said Hannah, as though challenging somebody to contradict
+her, "that Miss Morton would be the better for an egg to her tea. She
+looks just like a bit soap after a hard day's washing."
+
+"I had no lunch," said a muffled, apologetic voice from the window.
+
+"Come away, then, and take yer tea," Hannah said sharply. "Young leddies
+should have more sense than go fasting so many hours."
+
+As it was evident that Hannah had no intention of leaving the room till
+she saw Meg sitting at the table, the girl came back and sat down.
+
+"See that she gets her tea, sir," she said in a low, admonitory voice to
+Anthony. "She's pretty far through."
+
+The tray was set at the end of the table. Anthony came and sat down
+behind it.
+
+"I'll pour out," he said, "and until you've drunk one cup of tea, eaten
+one piece of bread-and-butter and one egg, you're not to speak one word.
+_I_ will talk."
+
+He tried to, disjointedly and for the most part nonsense. Meg drank her
+tea, and to her own amazement ate up her egg and several pieces of
+bread-and-butter with the utmost relish.
+
+As the meal proceeded, Anthony noted that she grew less haggard. The
+tears still hung on her eyelashes, but the eyes themselves were a
+thought less tragic.
+
+When Hannah came for the tray she gave a grunt of satisfaction at the
+sight of the egg-shell and the empty plates.
+
+"Now," said Anthony, "we must thresh this subject out and settle what's
+to be done. I suppose you left a message for the Trents. What did you
+tell them?"
+
+"Lies," said Meg. "He said we must have a good start. His yacht was at
+Southampton. And I left a note that I'd been suddenly summoned to Papa,
+and would write from there. They'd all gone for a picnic, you know--and
+it was arranged I was to have a headache that morning ... I've got it
+now with a vengeance ... It seemed rather fun when we were planning it.
+Now it all looks so mean and horrid ... Besides, lots of people saw us
+in his motor ... and people always know me again because of my hair.
+Everyone knew him ... the whole county made a fuss of him, and it seemed
+so wonderful ... that he should care like that for me...."
+
+"Doubtless it did," said Anthony drily. "But we must consider what is to
+be done now. If you said you were going to your father, perhaps the best
+thing you can do is to go to him, and write to the Trents from there. I
+hope you didn't inform _him_ of your intention?"
+
+"No," she faltered. "I was to write to him just before we sailed ... But
+you may be perfectly sure the Trents will find out ... He will probably
+go back there to look for me ... I expect he is awfully puzzled."
+
+"I expect he is, and I hope," Anthony added vindictively, "the fellow is
+terrified out of his life as well. He ought to be horsewhipped, and I'd
+like to do it. A babe like you!"
+
+"No," said Meg, firmly; "there you're wrong. I'm not a babe ... I knew
+what I was doing; but up to to-day it seemed worth it ... I never seemed
+to see till to-day how it would hurt other people. Even if he grew tired
+of me--and I had faced that--there would have been some awfully happy
+months ... and so long as it was only me, it didn't seem to matter. And
+when you've had rather a mouldy life...."
+
+"It can never be a case of 'only me.' As society is constituted, other
+people are always involved."
+
+"Yet there was Marian Evans ... he told me about her ... she did it, and
+everyone came round to think it was very fine of her really. She wrote,
+or something, didn't she?"
+
+"She did," said Anthony, "and in several other respects her case was
+not at all analogous to yours. She was a middle-aged woman--you are a
+child...."
+
+"Perhaps, but I'm not an ignorant child...."
+
+"Oh, Meg!" Anthony protested.
+
+"I daresay about books and things I am, but I mean I haven't been
+wrapped in cotton-wool, and taken care of all my life, like Jan and Fay
+... I know about things. Oh dear, oh dear, will you forbid Jan ever to
+speak to me again?"
+
+"Jan!" Anthony repeated. "Jan! Why, she's the person of all others we
+want. We'll do nothing till she's here. Let's get her." And he pushed
+back his chair and rushed to the bell.
+
+Meg rushed after him: "You'll let her see me? You'll let her talk to me?
+Oh, are you sure?"
+
+The little hands clutched his arm, her ravaged, wistful face was raised
+imploringly to his.
+
+Anthony stooped and kissed the little face.
+
+"It's just people like Jan who are put into the world to straighten
+things out for the rest of us. We've wasted three-quarters of an hour
+already. Now we'll get her."
+
+"Is she on the telephone?" asked the practical Meg. "Not far off?"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Jan was quite used to being summoned to her father in a tremendous
+hurry. She was back in St. George's Square before he started for the
+dinner. Meg was lying down in one of the dismantled bedrooms, and when
+Jan arrived she went straight to her father in his dressing-room.
+
+She found him on his knees, pursuing a refractory collar-stud under the
+wash-stand.
+
+"It's well you've come," he said as he got up. "I can't fasten my collar
+or my tie. I've had a devil of a time. My fingers are all thumbs and I'm
+most detestably sticky."
+
+He told Jan about Meg. She fastened his collar and arranged his tie in
+the neatest of bows. Then she kissed him on both cheeks and told him not
+to worry.
+
+"How can one refrain from worrying when the works of the devil and the
+selfishness of man are made manifest as they have been to-day? But for
+the infinite mercy of God, where would that poor silly child have been?"
+
+"It's just because the infinite mercy of God is so much stronger than
+the works of the devil or the selfishness of man, that you needn't
+worry," said Jan.
+
+Anthony put his hands on Jan's shoulders and held her away from him.
+
+"Do you know," he said, "I shall always like Hannah better after this.
+In spite of her moustache and her grimness, that child was sure Hannah
+would take her in, whether any of us were here or not. Now, how did she
+know?"
+
+"Because," said Jan, "things are revealed to babes like Meg that are
+hidden from men of the world like you. Hannah is all right--you don't
+appreciate Hannah, and you are rather jealous of her moustache."
+
+Anthony leant forward and kissed his tall young daughter: "You are a
+great comfort, Jan," he said. "How do you do it?"
+
+Jan nodded at him. "It will all straighten out--don't you worry," she
+said.
+
+All the same, there was plenty of worry for everybody. The man, after
+his fashion, was very much in love with Meg. He was horribly alarmed by
+her sudden and mysterious disappearance. No one had seen her go, no one
+had noticed her.
+
+He got into a panic, and motored back to the Trents', arriving there
+just before dinner. Mrs. Trent, tired and cross after a wet picnic, had,
+of course, read Meg's note, thought it very casual of the girl and was
+justly incensed.
+
+On finding they knew no more of Meg's movements than he did himself, the
+man--one Walter Brooke--lost his head and confessed the truth to Mrs.
+Trent, who was much shocked and not a little frightened.
+
+Later in the evening she received a telegram from Jan announcing Meg's
+whereabouts.
+
+Jan had insisted on this, lest the Trents should suspect anything and
+wire to Major Morton.
+
+Mrs. Trent, quite naturally, refused to have anything further to do with
+Meg. She talked of serpents, and was very much upset. She wrote a
+dignified letter to Major Morton, explaining her reasons for Meg's
+dismissal. She also wrote to their relative among the weariful rich,
+through whom she had heard of Meg.
+
+Meg was more under a cloud than when she left Ribston Hall.
+
+But for Jan and Anthony she might have gone under altogether; but they
+took her down to Wren's End and kept guard over her. Anthony Ross dealt
+faithfully with the man, who went yachting at once.
+
+Meg recovered her poise, searched the advertisements of the scholastic
+papers industriously, and secured a post in a school for little boys, as
+Anthony forced his cousin Amelia to give her a testimonial.
+
+Here she worked hard and was a great success, for she could keep order,
+and that quality, where small boys are concerned, is much more valuable
+than learning. She stayed there for some years, and then her frail
+little ill-nourished body gave out, and she was gravely ill.
+
+When she recovered, she went as English governess to a rich German
+family in Bremen. The arrangement was only for one year, and at its
+termination she was free to offer to meet Jan and her charges.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+PLANS
+
+
+"Now, chicks, this is London, the friendly town," Jan announced, as the
+taxi drove away from Charing Cross station.
+
+"Flendly little London, dirty little London," her niece rejoined, as she
+bounced up and down on Jan's knee. She had slept during the very good
+crossing and was full of conversation and ready to be pleased with all
+she saw.
+
+Tony was very quiet. He had suffered far more in the swift journey
+across France than during the whole of the voyage, and it was difficult
+to decide whether he or Ayah were the more extraordinary colour.
+Greenish-white and miserable he sat beside his aunt, silent and
+observing.
+
+"Here's dear old Piccadilly," Jan exclaimed, as the taxi turned out of
+St. James's Street. "Doesn't it look jolly in the sunshine?"
+
+Tony turned even greener than before, and gasped:
+
+"This! Piccadilly!"
+
+This not very wide street with shops and great houses towering above
+them, the endless streams of traffic in the road and on the crowded
+pavements!
+
+"Did Mrs. Bond live in one of those houses?" he wondered, "and if so,
+where did she keep her ducks? And where, oh, where, were the tulips and
+the lilies of his dream?"
+
+He uttered no sound, but his mind kept exclaiming, "This! Piccadilly?"
+
+"See," said Jan, oblivious of Tony and intent on keeping her lively
+niece upon her knee. "There's the Green Park."
+
+Tony breathed more freely.
+
+After all, there _were_ trees and grass; good grass, and more of it than
+in the Resident's garden. He took heart a little and summoned up courage
+to inquire: "But where are the tulips?"
+
+"It's too early for tulips yet," Jan answered. "By and by there will be
+quantities. How did you know about them? Did dear Mummy tell you? But
+they're in Hyde Park, not here."
+
+Tony made no answer. He was, as usual, weighing and considering and
+making up his mind.
+
+Presently he spoke. "It's different," he said, slowly, "but I rather
+like to look at it."
+
+Tony never said whether he thought things were pretty or ugly. All he
+knew was that certain people and places, pictures and words, sometimes
+filled him with an exquisite sense of pleasure, while others merely
+bored or exasperated or were positively painful.
+
+His highest praise was "I like to look at it." When he didn't like to
+look at it, he had found it wiser to express no opinion at all, except
+in moments of confidential expansion, and these were rare with Tony.
+
+Meg had found them a nice little furnished flat on the fifth floor in
+one of the blocks behind Kensington High Street, and Hannah must surely
+have been waiting behind the door, so instantaneously was it opened,
+when Jan and her party left the lift.
+
+There were tears in Hannah's eyes and her nose was red as she welcomed
+"Miss Fay's motherless bairns." She was rather shocked that there was no
+sign of mourning about any of them except Jan, who wore--mainly as a
+concession to Hannah's prejudices--a thin black coat and skirt she had
+got just before she left Bombay.
+
+Tony stared stonily at Hannah and decided he did not like to look at
+her. She was as surprising as the newly-found Piccadilly, but she
+gratified no sensuous perception whatsoever.
+
+Ayah might not be exactly beautiful, but she was harmonious. Her body
+was well proportioned, her sari fell in gracious flowing lines, and she
+moved with dignity. Without knowing why, Tony felt that there was
+something pleasing to the eye in Ayah. Hannah, on the contrary, was the
+reverse of graceful; stumpy and heavy-footed, she gave an impression of
+abrupt terminations. Everything about her seemed too short except her
+caps, which were unusually tall and white and starchy. Her afternoon
+aprons, too, were stiffer and whiter and more voluminous than those of
+other folk. She did not regard these things as vain adornings of her
+person, rather were they the outward and visible sign of her office as
+housekeeper to Miss Ross. They were a partial expression of the dignity
+of that office, just as a minister's gown is the badge of his.
+
+By the time everyone was washed and brushed Meg returned with the
+luggage and Hannah brought in tea.
+
+"I thought you'd like to give the bairns their tea yourself the first
+day, Miss Jan. Will that Hindu body have hers in the nursery?"
+
+"That would be best," Jan said hastily. "And Hannah, you mustn't be
+surprised if she sits on the floor. Indian servants always do."
+
+"_Nothing_ she can do will surprise me," Hannah announced loftily. "I've
+not forgotten the body that came back with Mrs. Tancred, with a ring
+through her nose and a red wafer on her forehead."
+
+Jan, herself, went with Ayah to the nursery, where she found that in
+spite of her disparaging sniffs, Hannah had put out everything poor Ayah
+could possibly want.
+
+The children were hungry and tea was a lengthy meal. It was not until
+they had departed with Ayah for more washings that Jan found time to
+say: "Why don't you take off your hat, Meg dear? I can't see you
+properly in that extinguisher. Is it the latest fashion?"
+
+"The very latest."
+
+Meg looked queerly at Jan as she slowly took off her hat.
+
+"There!" she said.
+
+Her hair was cropped as short as a boy's, except for the soft, tawny
+rings that framed her face.
+
+"Meg!" Jan cried. "Why on earth have you cut off your hair?"
+
+"Chill penury's the cause. I've turned it into good hard cash. It
+happens to be the fashionable colour just now."
+
+"Did you really need to? I thought you were getting quite a good salary
+with those Hoffmeyers."
+
+"No English governess gets a _good_ salary in Bremen, and mine was but a
+modest remuneration, so I wanted more. Do you remember Lady Penelope
+Pottinger?"
+
+"Hazily. She was pretty, wasn't she ... and very smart?"
+
+"She was and is ... smarter than ever now--mind, I put you on your
+honour never to mention it--_she's_ got my hair."
+
+"Do you mean she asked you to sell it?"
+
+"No, my child. I offered it for sale and she was all over me with
+eagerness to purchase. Hair's the defective wire in her lighting
+apparatus. Her own, at the best, is skimpy and straight, though very
+much my colour, and what with permanent waving and instantaneous hair
+colouring it was positively dwindling away."
+
+"I wish you had let it dwindle."
+
+"No, I rather like her--so I suggested she should give her own poor
+locks a rest and have an artistic _postiche_ made with mine; it made
+two, one to come and one to go--to the hairdresser. She looks perfectly
+charming. I'd no idea my hair was so decent till I saw it on her head."
+
+"I hope _I_ never shall," Jan said gloomily. "I think it was silly of
+you, for it makes you look younger and more irresponsible than ever; and
+what about posts?"
+
+"I've got a post in view where it won't matter if only I can run things
+my own way."
+
+"Will you have to go at once? I thought, perhaps----"
+
+"I wish to take this post at once," Meg interposed quickly, "but it
+depends on you whether I get it."
+
+"On me?"
+
+"On no one else. Look here, Jan, will you take me on as nurse to Fay's
+children? A real nurse, mind, none of your fine lady arrangements; only
+you must pay me forty pounds a year. I can't manage with less if I'm to
+give my poor little Papa any chirps ... I suppose that's a frightful lot
+for a nurse?"
+
+"Not for a good nurse ... But, Meg, you got eighty when you taught the
+little boys, and I know they'd jump at you again in that school, hair or
+no hair."
+
+"Listen, Jan." Meg put her elbows on the table and leaned her sharp
+little chin on her two hands while she held Jan's eyes with hers. "For
+nine long years, except that time with the Trents, I've been teaching,
+teaching, teaching, and I'm sick of teaching. I'd rather sweep a
+crossing."
+
+"Yet you teach so well; you know the little boys adored you."
+
+"I love children and they usually like me. If you take me to look after
+Tony and little Fay, I'll do it thoroughly, I can promise you. I won't
+teach them, mind, not a thing--I'll make them happy and well-mannered;
+and, Jan, listen, do you suppose there's anybody, even the most
+superior of elderly nurses, who would take the trouble for Fay's
+children that I should? If you let me come you won't regret it, I
+promise you."
+
+Meg's eyes, those curious eyes with the large pupil and blue iris
+flecked with brown, were very bright, her voice was earnest, and when it
+ceased it left a sense of tension in the very air.
+
+Jan put out her hand across the table, and Meg, releasing her sharp
+little chin, clasped it with hers.
+
+"So that's settled," Meg announced triumphantly.
+
+"No." Jan's voice was husky but firm. "It's not settled. I don't think
+you're strong enough; but, even so, if I could pay you the salary you
+ought to have, I'd jump at you ... but, my dear, I can't at present. I
+haven't the least idea what it will all cost, but the fares and things
+have made such a hole in this year's money I'll need to be awfully
+careful."
+
+"That's exactly why I want to come; you've no idea of being careful and
+doing things in a small way. I've done it all my life. You'll be far
+more economical with me than without me."
+
+"Don't tempt me," Jan besought her. "I see all that, but why should I be
+comfortable at your expense? I want you more than I can say. Fay wanted
+it too--she said so."
+
+"Did Fay actually say so? Did she?"
+
+"Yes, she did--not that you should be their nurse, we neither of us ever
+thought of that; but she did want you to be there to help me with the
+children. We used to talk about it."
+
+"Then I'm coming. I must. Don't you see how it is, Jan? Don't you
+realise that nearly all the happiness in my life--_all_ the happiness
+since the boys left--has come to me through Mr. Ross and Fay and you?
+And now when there's a chance for me to do perhaps a little something in
+return ... If you don't let me, it's you who are mean and grudging. I
+shall be perfectly strong, if I haven't got to teach--mind, I won't do
+that, not so much as A.B.C."
+
+"I know it's wrong," Jan sighed, "just because it would be so heavenly
+to have you."
+
+Meg loosed the hand she held and stood up. She lifted her thin arms
+above her head, as though invoking some invisible power, stretched
+herself, and ran round the table to kiss Jan.
+
+"And do you never think, you dear, slow-witted thing, that it will be
+rather lovely for _me_ to be with you? To be with somebody who is kind
+without being patronising, who treats one as a human being and not a
+machine, who sees the funny side of things and isn't condescending or
+improving if she doesn't happen to be cross?"
+
+"I'm often cross," Jan said.
+
+"Well, and what if you are? Can't I be cross back? I'm not afraid of
+your crossness. You never hit below the belt. Now, promise me you'll
+give me a trial. Promise!"
+
+Meg's arms were round her neck, Meg's absurd cropped head was rubbing
+against hers. Jan was very lonely and hungry for affection just then,
+timid and anxious about the future. Even in that moment of time it
+flashed upon her what a tower of strength this small, determined
+creature would be, and how infinitely hard it was to turn Meg from any
+course she had determined on.
+
+"For a little while, then," so Jan salved her conscience. "Just till we
+all shake down ... and your hair begins to grow."
+
+Meg stood up very straight and shook her finger at Jan. "Remember, I'm
+to be a real, proper nurse with authority, and a clinical thermometer
+... and a uniform."
+
+"If you like, and it's a pretty uniform."
+
+Meg danced gleefully round the table.
+
+"It will be lovely, it is lovely. I've got it all ready; green linen
+frocks, big _well_-fitting aprons, and such beautiful caps."
+
+"Not caps, Meg!" Jan expostulated. "Please not caps."
+
+"Certainly caps. How otherwise am I to cover up my head? I can't wear
+hats all the time. And how could I ever inspire those children with
+respect with a head like this? When I get into my uniform you'll see
+what a very superior nurse I look."
+
+"You'll look much more like musical comedy than sober service."
+
+"You mistake the situation altogether," Meg said loftily. "I take my
+position very seriously."
+
+"But you can't go about Wren's End in caps. Everybody knows you down
+there."
+
+"They'll find out they don't know me as well as they thought, that's
+all."
+
+"Meg, tell me, what did Hannah say when she saw your poor shorn head?"
+
+"Hannah, as usual, referred to my Maker, and said that had He intended
+me to have short hair He would either have caused it not to grow or
+afflicted me with some disease which necessitated shearing; and she
+added that such havers are just flying in the face of Providence."
+
+"So they are."
+
+"All the more reason to cover them up, and I wish to impress the
+children."
+
+"Those children will be sadly browbeaten, I can see, and as for their
+poor aunt, she won't be able to call her soul her own."
+
+"That," Meg said, triumphantly, "is precisely why I'm so eager to come.
+When you've been an underling all your life you can't imagine what a joy
+it is to be top dog occasionally."
+
+"In that respect," Jan said firmly, "it must be turn and turn about. I
+won't let you come unless you promise--swear, here and now--that when I
+consider you are looking fagged--'a wispy wraith,' as Daddie used to
+say--if I command you to take a day in bed, in bed you will stay till I
+give you leave to get up. Unless you promise me this, the contract is
+off."
+
+"I'll promise anything you like. The idea of being _pressed_ to remain
+in bed strikes me as merely comic. You have evidently no notion how
+persons in a subordinate position ought to be treated. Bed, indeed!"
+
+"I think you might have waited till I got back before you parted with
+your hair." Jan's tone was decidedly huffy.
+
+"Now don't nag. That subject is closed. What about _your_ hair. Do you
+know it is almost white?"
+
+"And what more suitable for a maiden aunt? As that is to be my _role_
+for the future I may as well look the part."
+
+"But you don't--that's what I complain of. The whiter your hair grows
+the younger your face gets. You're a contradiction, a paradox, you
+provoke conjecture, you're indecently noticeable. Mr. Ross would have
+loved to paint you."
+
+Jan shook her head. "No, Daddie never wanted to paint anything about me
+except my arms."
+
+"He'd want to paint you now," Meg insisted obstinately. "_I_ know the
+sort of person he liked to paint."
+
+"He never would paint people unless he _did_ like them," Jan said,
+smiling as at some recollection. "Do you remember how he utterly refused
+to paint that rich Mr. Withells down at Amber Guiting?"
+
+"I remember," and Meg laughed. "He said Mr. Withells was puffy and
+stippled."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Tony had been cold ever since he reached the Gulf of Lyons, and he
+wondered what could be the matter with him, for he never remembered to
+have felt like this before. He wondered miserably what could be the
+reason why he felt so torpid and shivery, disinclined to move, and yet
+so uncomfortable when he sat still.
+
+After his bath, on that first night in London, tucked into a little bed
+with a nice warm eiderdown over him, he still felt that horrid little
+trickle of ice-cold water down his spine and could not sleep.
+
+His cot was in Auntie Jan's room with a tall screen round it. The rooms
+in the flat were small, tiny they seemed to Tony, after the lofty
+spaciousness of the bungalow in Bombay, but that didn't seem to make it
+any warmer, because Auntie Jan's window was wide open as it would
+go--top and bottom--and chilly gusts seemed to blow round his head in
+spite of the screen. Ayah and little Fay were in the nursery across the
+passage, where there was a fire. There was no fire in this wind-swept
+chamber of Auntie Jan's.
+
+Tony dozed and woke and woke and dozed, getting colder and more forlorn
+and miserable with each change of position. The sheets seemed made of
+ice, so slippery were they, so unkind and unyielding and unembracing.
+
+Presently he saw a dim light. Auntie Jan had come to bed, carrying a
+candle. He heard her say good night to the little mem who had met them
+at the station, and the door was shut.
+
+In spite of her passion for fresh air, Jan shivered herself as she
+undressed. She made a somewhat hasty toilet, said her prayers, peeped
+round the screen to see that Tony was all right, and hopped into bed,
+where a hot-water bottle put in by the thoughtful Hannah was most
+comforting.
+
+Presently she heard a faint, attenuated sniff. Again it came, this time
+accompanied by the ghost of something like a groan.
+
+Jan sat up in bed and listened. Immediately all was perfectly still.
+
+She lay down again, and again came that sad little sniff, and
+undoubtedly it was from behind the screen that it came.
+
+Had Tony got cold?
+
+Jan leapt out of bed, switched on the light and tore away the screen
+from around his bed.
+
+Yes; his doleful little face was tear-stained.
+
+"Tony, Tony darling, what is the matter?"
+
+"I don't know," he sobbed. "I feel so funny."
+
+Jan put her hand on his forehead--far from being hot, the little face
+was stone-cold. In a moment she had him out of bed and in her warm arms.
+As she took him she felt the chill of the stiff, unyielding small body.
+
+"My precious boy, you're cold as charity! Why didn't you call me long
+ago? Why didn't you tell Auntie Jan?"
+
+"I didn't ... know ... what it was," he sobbed.
+
+In no time Tony was put into the big bed, the bed so warm from Auntie
+Jan's body, with a lovely podgy magic something at his feet that
+radiated heat. Auntie Jan slammed down the window at the bottom, and
+then more fairness! She struck a match, there was a curious sort of
+"plop," and a little fire started in the grate, an amazing little fire
+that grew redder and redder every minute. Auntie Jan put on a blue
+dressing-gown over the long white garment that she wore, and bustled
+about. Tony decided that he "liked to look at her" in this blue robe,
+with her hair in a great rope hanging down. She was very quick; she
+fetched a little saucepan and he heard talking in the passage outside,
+but no one else came in, only Auntie Jan.
+
+Presently she gave him milk, warm and sweet, in a blue cup. He drank it
+and began to feel much happier, drowsy too, and contented. Presently
+there was no light save the red glow of the fairy fire, and Auntie Jan
+got into bed beside him.
+
+She put her arm about him and drew him so that his head rested against
+her warm shoulder. He did not repulse her, he did not speak, but lay
+stiff and straight with his feet glued against that genial podgy
+something that was so infinitely comforting.
+
+"You are kind," Tony said suddenly. "I believe you."
+
+The stiff little body relaxed and lay against hers in confiding
+abandonment, and soon he was sound asleep.
+
+What a curious thing to say! Jan lay awake puzzling. Tragedy lay behind
+it. Only five years old, and yet, to Tony, belief was a more important
+thing than love. She thought of Fay, hectic and haggard, and again she
+seemed to hear her say in her tired voice, trying to explain Tony: "He's
+not a cuddly child; he's queer and reserved and silent, but if he once
+trusts you it's for always; he'll love you then and never change."
+
+Jan could just see, in the red glow from the fire, the little head that
+lay so confidingly against her shoulder, the wide forehead, the
+peacefully closed eyes. And suddenly she realised that the elusive
+resemblance to somebody that had always evaded her was a likeness to
+that face she saw in the glass every time she did her hair. She kissed
+him very softly, praying the while that she might never fail him; that
+he might always have reason to trust her.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+THE STATE OF PETER
+
+
+Meanwhile Peter was making discoveries about himself. He went back to
+his flat on the evening of the day Jan and the children sailed. Swept
+and garnished and exceedingly tidy, it appeared to have grown larger
+during his absence and seemed rather empty. There was a sense of
+unfilled spaces that caused him to feel lonely.
+
+That very evening he decided he must get a friend to chum with him. The
+bungalow was much too big for one person.
+
+This had never struck him before.
+
+In spite of their excessive neatness there remained traces of Jan and
+the children in the rooms. The flowers on the dinner-table proclaimed
+that they had been arranged by another hand than Lalkhan's. He was
+certain of that without Lalkhan's assurance that the Miss-Sahib had done
+them herself before she sailed that very morning.
+
+When he went to his desk after dinner--never before or after did Peter
+possess such an orderly bureau--he found a letter lying on the
+blotting-pad, and on each side of the heavy brass inkstand were placed a
+leaden member of a camel-corps and an India-rubber ball with a face
+painted upon it, which, when squeezed, expressed every variety of
+emotion. These, Lalkhan explained, were parting gifts from the young
+sahib and little Fay respectively, and had been so arranged by them just
+before they sailed.
+
+The day before Jan had told the children that all this time they had
+been living in Peter's house and that she was sure Mummy would want them
+to be very grateful (she was careful to talk a great deal about Mummy to
+the children lest they should forget her); that he had been very kind to
+them all, and she asked if there was anything of their very own they
+would like to leave for Peter as a remembrance.
+
+Tony instantly fetched the camel-corps soldier that kept guard on a
+chair by his cot every night; that Ayah had not been permitted to pack
+because it must accompany him on the voyage. It was, Jan knew, his most
+precious possession, and she assured him that Peter would be
+particularly gratified by such a gift.
+
+Not to be outdone by her brother, little Fay demanded her beloved ball,
+which was already packed for the voyage in Jan's suit-case.
+
+Peter sat at his desk staring at the absurd little toys with very kind
+eyes. He understood. Then he opened Jan's letter and read it through
+quite a number of times.
+
+"Dear Mr. Ledgard," it ran.
+
+"Whatever Mr. Kipling may say of the Celt, the lowland Scot finds it
+very difficult to express strong feeling in words. If I had tried to
+tell you, face to face, how sensible I am of your kindness and
+consideration for us during the last sad weeks--I should have cried. You
+would have been desperately uncomfortable and I--miserably ashamed of
+myself. So I can only try to write something of my gratitude.
+
+"We have been your guests so long and your hospitality has been so
+untiring in circumstances sad and strange enough to try the patience of
+the kindest host, that I simply cannot express my sense of obligation;
+an obligation in no wise burdensome because you have always contrived to
+make me feel that you took pleasure in doing all you have done.
+
+"I wish there had been something belonging to my sister that I could
+have begged you to accept as a remembrance of her; but everything she
+had of the smallest value has disappeared--even her books. When I get
+home I hope to give you one of my father's many portraits of her, but I
+will not send it till I know whether you are coming home this summer.
+Please remember, should you do so, as I sincerely hope you will, that
+nowhere can there be a warmer welcome for you than at Wren's End. It
+would be the greatest possible pleasure for the children and me to see
+you there, and it is a good place to slack in and get strong. And there
+I hope to challenge you to the round of golf we never managed during my
+time in India.
+
+"Please try to realise, dear Mr. Ledgard, that my sense of your kindness
+is deep and abiding, and, believe me, yours, in most true gratitude,
+
+                                             "JANET ROSS."
+
+For a long time Peter sat very still, staring at the cheerful,
+highly-coloured face painted on Fay's ball. Cigarette after cigarette
+did he smoke as he reviewed the experience of the last six weeks.
+
+For the first time since he became a man he had been constantly in the
+society of a woman younger than himself who appeared too busy and too
+absorbed in other things to remember that she was a woman and he a man.
+
+Peter was ordinarily susceptible, and he was rather a favourite with
+women because of his good manners; and his real good-nature made him
+ready to help either in any social project that happened to be towards
+or in times of domestic stress. Yet never until lately had he seen so
+much of any woman not frankly middle-aged without being conscious that
+he _was_ a man and she a woman, and this added, at all events, a certain
+piquancy to the situation.
+
+Yet he had never felt this with Jan.
+
+Quite a number of times in the course of his thirty years he had fallen
+in love in an agreeably surface sort of way without ever being deeply
+stirred. Love-making was the pleasantest game in the world, but he had
+not yet felt the smallest desire to marry. He was a shrewd young man,
+and knew that marriage, even in the twentieth century, at all events
+starts with the idea of permanence; and, like many others who show no
+inclination to judge the matrimonial complications of their
+acquaintance, he would greatly have disliked any sort of scandal that
+involved himself or his belongings.
+
+He was quite as sensitive to criticism as other men in his service, and
+he knew that he challenged it in lending his flat to Mrs. Tancred. But
+here he felt that the necessities of the case far outweighed the
+possibilities of misconception, and after Jan came he thought no more
+about it.
+
+Yet in a young man with his somewhat cynical knowledge of the world, it
+was surprising that the thought of his name being coupled with Jan's
+never crossed his mind. He forgot that none of his friends knew Jan at
+all, but that almost every evening they did see her with him in the
+car--sometimes, it is true, accompanied by the children, but quite as
+often alone--and that during her visit his spare time was so much
+occupied in looking after the Tancred household that his friends saw
+comparatively little of him, and Peter was, as a rule, a very sociable
+person.
+
+Therefore it came upon him as a real shock when people began to ask him
+point-blank whether he was engaged to Jan, and if so, what they were
+going to do about Tancred's children. Rightly or wrongly, he discerned
+in the question some veiled reflection upon Jan, some implied slur upon
+her conduct. He was consequently very short and huffy with these
+inquisitive ones, and when he was no longer present they would shake
+their heads and declare that "poor old Peter had got it in the neck."
+
+If so, poor old Peter was, as yet, quite unconscious of anything of the
+kind.
+
+Nevertheless he found himself constantly thinking about her. Everything,
+even the familiar streets and roads, served to remind him of her, and
+when he went to bed he nearly always dreamed about her. Absurd,
+inconsequent, unsatisfactory dreams they were; for in them she was
+always too busy to pay any attention to him at all; she was wholly
+absorbed by what it is to be feared Peter sometimes called "those
+confounded children." Though even in his dream world he was careful to
+keep his opinion to himself.
+
+Why on earth should he always dream of Jan during the first part of the
+night?
+
+Lalkhan could have thrown some light upon the subject. But naturally
+Peter did not confide his obsession to Lalkhan.
+
+Just before she left Jan asked Lalkhan where the sahib's linen was kept,
+and on being shown the cupboard which contained the rather untidy little
+piles of sheets, pillow-cases, and towels that formed Peter's modest
+store of house linen, she rearranged it and brought sundry flat, square
+muslin bags filled with dried lavender. Lace-edged bags with
+lavender-coloured ribbon run through insertion and tied in bows at the
+two corners. These bags she placed among the sheets, much to the wonder
+of Lalkhan, who, however, decided that it was kindly meant and therefore
+did not interfere.
+
+The odour was not one that commended itself to him. It was far too faint
+and elusive. He could understand a liking for attar of roses, of
+jessamine, of musk, or of any of the strong scents beloved by the native
+of India. Yet had she proposed to sprinkle the sheets with any of these
+essences he would have felt obliged to interfere, as the sahib swore
+violently and became exceedingly hot and angry did any member of his
+household venture into his presence thus perfumed. Even as it was he
+fully expected that his master would irritably demand the cause of the
+infernal smell that pervaded his bed; so keen are the noses of the
+sahibs. Whereupon Lalkhan, strong in rectitude, would relate exactly
+what had happened, produce one of the Jan-incriminating muslin bags,
+escape further censure, and doubtless be commanded to burn it and its
+fellows in the kitchen stove. But nothing of the kind occurred, and, as
+it is always easier to leave a thing where it has been placed than to
+remove it, the lavender remained among the sheets in humble obscurity.
+
+The old garden at Wren's End abounded in great lavender bushes, and
+every year since it became her property Jan made lavender sachets which
+she kept in every possible place. Her own clothes always held a faint
+savour of lavender, and she had packed these bags as much as a matter of
+course as she packed her stockings. It seemed a shame, though, to take
+them home again when she could get plenty more next summer, so she left
+them in the bungalow linen cupboard. They reproduced her atmosphere;
+therefore did Peter dream of Jan.
+
+A fortnight passed, and on their way to catch the homeward mail came
+Thomas Crosbie and his wife from Dariawarpur to stay the night. Next
+morning at breakfast Mrs. Crosbie, young, pretty and enthusiastic,
+expatiated on the comfort of her room, finally exclaiming: "And how,
+Mr. Ledgard, do you manage to have your sheets so deliciously scented
+with lavender--d'you get it sent out from home every year?"
+
+"Lavender?" Peter repeated. "I've got no lavender. My people never sent
+me any, and I've certainly never come across any in India."
+
+"But I'm convinced everything smelt of lavender. It made me think of
+home so. If I hadn't been just going I'd have been too homesick for
+words. I'm certain of it. Think! You must have got some from somewhere
+and forgotten it."
+
+Peter shook his head. "I've never noticed it myself--you really must be
+mistaken. What would I be doing with lavender?"
+
+"It was there all the same," Mrs. Crosbie continued. "I'm certain of it.
+You must have got some from somewhere. Do find out--I'm sure I'm not
+wrong. Ask your boy."
+
+Peter said something to Lalkhan, who explained volubly. Tom Crosbie
+grinned; he understood even fluent Hindustani. His wife did not. Peter
+looked a little uncomfortable. Lalkhan salaamed and left the room.
+
+"Well?" Mrs. Crosbie asked.
+
+"It seems," Peter said slowly, "there _is_ something among the sheets.
+I've sent Lalkhan to get it."
+
+Lalkhan returned, bearing a salver, and laid on the salver was one of
+Jan's lavender bags. He presented it solemnly to his master, who with
+almost equal solemnity handed it to Mrs. Crosbie.
+
+"There!" she said. "Of course I knew I couldn't be mistaken. Now where
+did you get it?"
+
+"It was, I suppose, put among the things when poor Mrs. Tancred had the
+flat. I never noticed, of course--it's such an unobtrusive sort of
+smell...."
+
+"Hadn't she a sister?" Mrs. Crosbie asked, curiously, holding the little
+sachet against her soft cheek and looking very hard at Peter.
+
+"She had. It was she who took the children home, you know."
+
+"Older or younger than Mrs. Tancred?"
+
+"Older."
+
+"How much older?"
+
+"I really don't know," said the mendacious Peter.
+
+"Was she awfully pretty, too?"
+
+"Again, I really don't know. I never thought about her looks ... she had
+grey hair...."
+
+"Oh!" Mrs. Crosbie exclaimed--a deeply disappointed "Oh." "Probably much
+older, then. That explains the lavender bags."
+
+Silent Thomas Crosbie looked from his wife to Peter with considerable
+amusement. He realised, if she didn't, that Peter was most successfully
+putting her off the scent of more than lavender; but men are generally
+loyal to each other in these matters, and he suddenly took his part in
+the conversation and changed the subject.
+
+Among Peter's orders to his butler that morning was one to the effect
+that nothing the Miss-Sahib had arranged in the bungalow was to be
+disturbed, and the lavender bag was returned to rejoin its fellows in
+the cupboard.
+
+It was four years since Peter had had any leave, and it appeared that
+the lavender had the same effect upon him as upon Mrs. Crosbie. He felt
+homesick--and applied for leave in May.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+"THE BEST-LAID SCHEMES"
+
+
+Peter had been as good as his word, and had found a family returning to
+India who were glad to take Ayah back to Bombay. And she, though sorry
+to leave Jan and the children, acquiesced in all arrangements made for
+her with the philosophic patience of the East. March was a cold month,
+and she was often rather miserable, in spite of her pride in her shoes
+and stockings and the warm clothes Jan had provided for her.
+
+Before she left Jan interviewed her new mistress and found her kind and
+sensible, and an old campaigner who had made the voyage innumerable
+times.
+
+It certainly occurred to Jan that Peter had been extraordinarily quick
+in making this arrangement, but she concluded that he had written on the
+subject before they left India. She had no idea that he had sent a long
+and costly cable on the subject. His friend thought him very solicitous
+for her comfort, but set it down entirely to her own merits and Peter's
+discriminating good sense.
+
+When the day came Jan took Ayah to her new quarters in a taxi. Of course
+Ayah wept, and Jan felt like weeping herself, as she would like to have
+kept her on for the summer months. But she knew it wouldn't do; that
+apart from the question of expense, Hannah could never overcome her
+prejudices against "that heathen buddy," and that to have explained that
+poor Ayah was a Roman Catholic would only have made matters worse.
+Hannah was too valuable in every way to upset her with impunity, and the
+chance of sending Ayah back to India in such kind custody was too good
+to lose.
+
+Meg had deferred the adoption of the musical-comedy costume until such
+time as she took over Ayah's duties. She in no way interfered, but was
+helpful in so many unobtrusive ways that Jan, while she still felt
+guilty in allowing her to stay at all, acknowledged she could never have
+got through this time without her.
+
+Fortunately the day of Ayah's departure was fine, so that while Jan took
+her to her destination Meg took the children to spend the afternoon at
+the Zoo. To escort little Fay about London was always rather an ordeal
+to anyone of a retiring disposition. She was so fearless, so interested
+in her fellow-creatures, and so ready at all times and in all places to
+enter into conversation with absolute strangers, preferably men, that
+embarrassing situations were almost inevitable; and her speech, high and
+clear and carrying--in spite of the missing "r"--rendered it rarely
+possible to hope people did not understand what she said.
+
+They went by the Metropolitan to Baker Street and sat on one of the
+small seats at right angles to the windows, and a gentleman wearing a
+very shiny top-hat sat down opposite to them.
+
+He looked at little Fay; little Fay looked at him and, smiling her
+adorable, confident smile, leant forward, remarking: "Sahib, you wear a
+very high hat."
+
+Instantly the eyes of all the neighbouring passengers were fixed upon
+the hat and its owner. His, however, were only for the very small lady
+that faced him; the small lady in a close white bonnet and bewitching
+curls that bobbed and fluttered in the swaying of the train.
+
+He took off the immaculate topper and held it out towards her. "There,"
+he said, "would you like to look at it?"
+
+Fay carefully rubbed it the wrong way with a tentative woolly-gloved
+finger. "Plitty, high hat," she cooed. "Can plitty little Fay have it to
+keep?"
+
+But the gentleman's admiration did not carry him as far as this.
+Somewhat hastily he withdrew his hat, smoothed it (it had just been
+ironed) and placed it on his head again. Then he became aware of the
+smiling faces and concentrated gaze of his neighbours; also, that the
+attractive round face that had given him so much pleasure had exchanged
+its captivating smile for a pathetic melancholy that even promised
+tears. He turned extremely red and escaped at the next station.
+Whereupon ungrateful little Fay, who had never had the slightest
+intention of crying, remarked loftily: "Tahsome man dawn."
+
+When at last they reached the Zoo Meg took it upon herself to
+remonstrate with her younger charge.
+
+"You mustn't ask strangers for things, dear; you really mustn't--not in
+the street or in the train."
+
+"What for?" asked Fay. She nearly always said, "What for" when she meant
+"Why"; and it was as hard-worked a phrase as "What nelse?"
+
+"Because people don't do it, you know."
+
+"They do--I've heard 'em."
+
+"Well, beggars perhaps, but not nice little girls."
+
+"Do nasty little girls?"
+
+"_Only_ nasty little girls would do it, I think."
+
+Fay pondered this for a minute, then in a regretfully reflective voice
+she said sadly: "Vat was a nasty, gleedy sahib in a tlain."
+
+"Not at all," Meg argued, struggling with her mirth. "How would you have
+liked it if he'd asked you to give him your bonnet 'to keep'?"
+
+Little Fay hastily put up her hands to her head to be sure her bonnet
+was in its place, then she inquired with great interest: "What's 'is
+place, deah Med?"
+
+"Deah Med" soon found herself followed round by a small crowd of other
+sight-seers who waited for and greeted little Fay's unceasing comments
+with joyful appreciation. Such popular publicity was not at all to Meg's
+taste, and although the afternoon was extremely cold her cheeks never
+ceased to burn till she got the children safely back to the flat again.
+Tony was gloomy and taciturn. Nobody took the slightest notice of him.
+Weather that seemed to brace his sister to the most energetic gaiety
+only made him feel torpid and miserable. He was not naughty, merely
+apathetic, uninterested, and consequently uninteresting. Meg thought he
+might be homesick and sad about Ayah, and was very kind and gentle, but
+her advances met with no response.
+
+By this time Tony was sure of his aunt, but he had by no means made up
+his mind about Meg.
+
+When they got back to Kensington Meg joyously handed over the children
+to Jan while she retired to her room to array herself in her uniform.
+She was to "take over" from that moment, and approached her new sphere
+with high seriousness and an intense desire to be, as she put it, "a
+wild success."
+
+For weeks she had been reading the publications of the P. N. E. U. and
+the "Child-Study Society," to say nothing of Manuals upon "Infant
+Hygiene," "The Montessori Method" and "The Formation of Character."
+Sympathy and Insight, Duty and Discipline, Self-Control and Obedience,
+Regularity and Concentration of Effort--all with the largest
+capitals--were to be her watchwords. And she buttoned on her
+well-fitting white linen apron (newest and most approved hospital
+pattern, which she had been obliged to make herself, for she could buy
+nothing small enough) in a spirit of dedication as sincere as that
+imbuing any candidate for Holy Orders. Then, almost breathlessly, she
+put her cap upon her flaming head and surveyed the general effect in the
+long glass.
+
+Yes, it was all very satisfactory. Well-hung, short, green linen
+frock--was it a trifle short? Yet the little feet in the low-heeled
+shoes were neat as the ankles above them were slim, and one needed a
+short skirt for "working about."
+
+Perhaps there _was_ a touch of musical comedy about her appearance, but
+that was merely because she was so small and the cap, a muslin cap of a
+Quakerish shape, distinctly becoming. Well, there was no reason why she
+should want to look hideous. She would not be less capable because she
+was pleasing to the eye.
+
+She seized her flannel apron from the bed where she had placed it ready
+before she went out, and with one last lingering look at herself went
+swiftly to her new duties.
+
+Tea passed peacefully enough, though Fay asked embarrassing questions,
+such as "Why you wear suts a funny hat?"
+
+"Because I'm an ayah," Meg answered quickly.
+
+"Ayahs don't wear zose kind of hats."
+
+"English ayahs do, and I'm going to be your ayah, you know."
+
+Fay considered Meg for a minute. "No," she said, shaking her head.
+"_No._"
+
+"Have another sponge-finger," Jan suggested diplomatically, handing the
+dish to her niece, and the danger was averted.
+
+They played games with the children after tea and all went well till
+bed-time. Meg had begged Jan to leave them entirely to her, and with
+considerable misgiving she had seen Meg marshal the children to the
+bathroom and shut the door. Tony was asked as a favour to go too this
+first evening without Ayah, lest little Fay should feel lonely. It was
+queer, Jan reflected when left alone in the drawing-room, how she seemed
+to turn to the taciturn Tony for help where her obstreperous niece was
+concerned. Over and over again Tony had intervened and successfully
+prevented a storm.
+
+Meg turned on the bath and began to undress little Fay. She bore this
+with comparative meekness, but when all her garments had been removed
+she slipped from Meg's knees and, standing squarely on the floor,
+announced:
+
+"I want my own Ayah. Engliss Ayah not wass me. Own Ayah muss come bat."
+
+"She can't, my darling; she's gone to other little girls, you know--we
+told you many days ago."
+
+"She muss come bat--'_jaldi_,'" shouted Fay--"jaldi" being Hindustani
+for "quickly."
+
+Meg sighed. "I'm afraid she can't do that. Come, my precious, and let me
+bathe you; you'll get cold standing there."
+
+With a quick movement Meg seized the plump, round body. She was muscular
+though so small, and in spite of little Fay's opposition she lifted her
+into the bath. She felt Tony pull at her skirts and say something, but
+was too busy to pay attention.
+
+Little Fay was in the bath sure enough, but to wash her was quite
+another matter. You may lead a sturdy infant of three to the water in a
+fixed bath, but no power on earth can wash that infant if it doesn't
+choose. Fay screamed and struggled and wriggled and kicked, finally
+slipping right under the water, which frightened her dreadfully; she
+lost her breath for one second, only to give forth ear-splitting yells
+the next. She was slippery as a trout and strong as a leaping salmon.
+
+Jan could bear it no longer and came in. Meg had succeeded in lifting
+the terrified baby out of the bath, and she stood on the square of cork
+defying the "Engliss Ayah," wet from her topmost curl to her pink toes,
+but wholly unwashed.
+
+Tony ran to Jan and under all the din contrived to say: "It's the big
+bath; she's frightened. Ayah never put her in the big bath."
+
+Meg had forgotten this. The little tin bath they had brought from India
+for the voyage stood in a corner.
+
+It was filled, while Fay, wrapped in a Turkish towel, sobbed more
+quietly, ejaculating between the gurgles: "Nasty hat, nasty Engliss
+Ayah. I want my own deah Ayah!"
+
+When the bath was ready poor Meg again approached little Fay, but Fay
+would have none of her.
+
+"No," she wailed, "Engliss Ayah in nasty hat _not_ wass me. Tony wass
+me, _deah_ Tony."
+
+She held out her arms to her brother, who promptly received her in his.
+
+"You'd better let me," he said to the anxious young women. "We'll never
+get her finished else."
+
+So it ended in Tony's being arrayed in the flannel apron which, tied
+under his arm-pits, was not so greatly too long. With his sleeves
+turned up he washed his small sister with thoroughness and despatch,
+pointing out somewhat proudly that he "went into all the corners."
+
+[Illustration: He washed his small sister with thoroughness and
+despatch, pointing out ... that he "went into all the corners."]
+
+The washing-glove was very large on Tony's little hand, and he used a
+tremendous lot of soap--but Fay became all smiles and amiability during
+the process. Meg and Jan had tears in their eyes as they watched the
+quaint spectacle. There was something poignantly pathetic in the
+clinging together of these two small wayfarers in a strange country, so
+far from all they had known and shared in their short experience.
+
+Meg's "nasty hat" was rakishly askew upon her red curls, for Fay had
+frequently grabbed at it in her rage, and the beautiful green linen gown
+was sopping wet.
+
+"Engliss Ayah clying!" Fay remarked surprisedly. "What for?"
+
+"Because you wouldn't let me bathe you," said Meg dismally. Her voice
+broke. She really was most upset. As it happened, she did the only thing
+that would have appealed to little Fay.
+
+"Don't cly, deah Med," she said sweetly. "You sall dly me."
+
+And Meg, student of so many manuals, humbly and gratefully accepted the
+task.
+
+It had taken exactly an hour and a quarter to get Fay ready for bed.
+Indian Ayah used to do it in fifteen minutes.
+
+Consistently and cheerfully gracious, Fay permitted Meg to carry her to
+her cot and tuck her in.
+
+Meg lit the night-light and switched off the light, when a melancholy
+voice began to chant:
+
+"_My_ Ayah always dave me a choccly."
+
+Now there was no infant in London less deserving of a choccly at that
+moment than troublesome little Fay. "Nursery Hygiene" proclaimed the
+undeniable fact that sweetmeats last thing at night are most injurious.
+Duty and Discipline and Self-Control should all have pointed out the
+evil of any indulgence of the sort. Yet Meg, with all her theories quite
+fresh and new, and with this excellent opportunity of putting them into
+practice, extracted a choccly from a box on the chest of drawers; and
+when the voice, "like broken music," announced for the third time, "_My_
+Ayah always dave me a choccly," "So will this Ayah," said Meg, and
+popped it into the mouth whence the voice issued.
+
+There was a satisfied smacking and munching for a space, when the voice
+took up the tale:
+
+"Once Tony had thlee----"
+
+But what it was Tony once had "thlee" of Meg was not to know that night,
+for naughty little Fay fell fast asleep.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+For a week Tony bathed his sister every night. Neither Jan nor Meg felt
+equal to facing and going through again the terrors of that first night
+without Ayah. Little Fay was quite good--she permitted Meg to undress
+her and even to put her in the little bath, but once there she always
+said firmly, "Tony wass me," and Tony did.
+
+Then he burned his hand.
+
+He was never openly and obstreperously disobedient like little Fay. On
+the whole he preferred a quiet life free from contention. But very early
+in their acquaintance Jan had discovered that what Tony determined upon
+that he did, and in this he resembled her so strongly that she felt a
+secret sympathy with him, even when such tenacity of purpose was most
+inconvenient.
+
+He liked to find things out for himself, and no amount of warning or
+prohibition could prevent his investigations. Thus it came about that,
+carefully guarded as the children were from any contact with the fires,
+Tony simply didn't believe what was told him of their dangers.
+
+Fires were new to him. They were so pretty, with their dancing flames,
+it seemed a pity to shut them in behind those latticed guards Auntie Jan
+was so fond of. Never did Tony see the fires without those tiresome
+guards and he wanted to very much.
+
+One afternoon just before tea, while Meg was changing little Fay's
+frock, he slipped across to the drawing-room where Auntie Jan was busy
+writing a letter. Joy! the guard was off the fire; he could sit on the
+rug and watch it undisturbed. He made no noise, but knelt down softly in
+front of it and stretched out his hands to the pleasant warmth. It was
+the sort of fire Tony liked to watch, red at the heart, with little
+curling flames that were mirrored in the tiled hearth.
+
+Jan looked up from her writing and saw him there, saw also that there
+was no guard, but, as little Fay had not yet come, thought Tony far too
+sensible to interfere with the fire in any way. She went on with her
+writing; then when she looked again something in the intentness of his
+attitude caused her to say: "Be sure you don't get too near the fire,
+Tony; it hurts badly to be burned."
+
+"Yes, Auntie Jan," Tony said meekly.
+
+She wrote a few lines more, looked up, and held her breath. It would
+have been an easy matter even then to dash across and put on the guard;
+but in a flash Jan realised that to let Tony burn himself a little at
+that moment might save a very bad accident later on. There was nothing
+in his clothes to catch alight. His woollen jersey fitted closely.
+
+Exactly as though he were going to pick a flower, with curved hand
+outstretched Tony tried to capture and hold one of the dancing flames.
+He drew his hand back very quickly, and Jan expected a loud outcry, but
+none came. He sat back on the hearth-rug and rocked his body to and fro,
+holding the burnt right hand with his left, but he did not utter a
+sound.
+
+"It does hurt, doesn't it?" said Jan.
+
+He started at the quiet voice and turned a little puckered face towards
+her. "Yes," he said, with a big sigh; "but I know now."
+
+"Come with me and I'll put something on it to make it hurt less," said
+Jan, and crossed to the door.
+
+"Hadn't we better," he said, rather breathlessly, "put that thing on for
+fear of Fay?"
+
+Jan carefully replaced the "thing" and took him to her room, where she
+bandaged the poor little hand with carron-oil and cotton-wool. The outer
+edge was scorched from little finger to wrist. She made no remark while
+she did it, and Tony leaned confidingly against her the while.
+
+"Is that better?" she asked, when she had fastened the final safety-pin
+in the bandage. There was one big tear on Tony's cheek.
+
+"It's nice and cool, that stuff. _Why_ does it hurt so, Auntie Jan? It
+looks so kind and pretty."
+
+"It is kind and pretty, only we mustn't go too near. Will you be sure
+and tell Fay how it can hurt?"
+
+"I'll _tell_ her," he promised, but he didn't seem to have much hope of
+the news acting as a deterrent.
+
+When at bed-time Jan announced that Tony could not possibly bathe Fay
+because he mustn't get his hand wet or disturb the dressing, she and Meg
+tremblingly awaited the awful fuss that seemed bound to follow.
+
+But Fay was always unexpected. "Then Med muss wass me," she remarked
+calmly. The good custom was established and Meg began to perk up again.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+THE WHEELS OF CHANCE
+
+
+Meg was out walking with the children in Kensington Gardens, and Hannah
+was paying the tradesmen's books. It was the only way to make Hannah
+take the air, to send her, as she put it, "to do the messages." She
+liked paying the books herself, for she always suspected Jan of not
+counting the change.
+
+Jan was alone in the flat and was laying tea for the children in the
+dining-room when "ting" went the electric bell. She opened the door to
+find upon the threshold an exceedingly tall young man; a well-set-up,
+smart young man with square shoulders, who held out his hand to her,
+saying in a friendly voice: "You may just happen to remember me, Miss
+Ross, but probably not. Colonel Walcote's my uncle, and he's living in
+your house, you know. My name's Middleton ... I _hope_ you remember me,
+for I've come to ask a favour."
+
+As he spoke he gave Jan his card, and on it was "Captain Miles
+Middleton, R. H. A.," and the addresses of two clubs.
+
+She led him to the little drawing-room, bracing herself the while to be
+firm in her refusal if the Walcotes wanted the house any longer, good
+tenants though they were.
+
+She was hopelessly vague about her guest, but felt she had met him
+somewhere. She didn't like to confess how slight her recollection was,
+for he looked so big and brown and friendly it seemed unkind.
+
+He sat down, smoothed his hat, and then with an engaging smile that
+showed his excellent teeth, began: "I've come--it sounds rather
+farcical, doesn't it--about a dog?"
+
+"A dog?" Jan repeated vaguely. "What dog?"
+
+"Well, he's my dog at present, but I want him to be your dog--if you'll
+have him."
+
+"You want to give me a dog--but why? Or do you only want me to keep him
+a bit for you?"
+
+"Well, it's like this, Miss Ross; it would be cheek to ask you to keep a
+young dog, and when you'd had all the trouble of him and got fond of
+him--and you'll get awfully fond of him, if you have him--to take him
+away again. It wouldn't be fair, it really wouldn't ... so...."
+
+"Wait a bit," said the cautious Jan. "What sort of a dog is he ... if it
+is a he...."
+
+"He's a bull-terrier...."
+
+"Oh, but I don't think I'm very fond of bull-terriers ... aren't they
+fierce and doesn't one always associate them with public-houses? I
+couldn't have a fierce dog, you know, because of the two children."
+
+"They're always nice with children," Captain Middleton said firmly. "And
+as for the pothouse idea--that's quite played out. I suppose it was that
+picture with the mug and the clay pipe. He'd _love_ the children; he's
+only a child himself, you know."
+
+"A puppy! Oh, Captain Middleton, wouldn't he eat all our shoes and
+things and tear up all the rugs?"
+
+"I think he's past that, I do really--he'll be a year old on Monday.
+He'll be a splendid watchdog, and he's not a bit deaf--lots of 'em are,
+you know--and he's frightfully well-bred. Just you look at the
+pedigree ..." and Captain Middleton produced from his breast-pocket a
+folded foolscap document which he handed to Jan.
+
+She gazed at it with polite interest, though it conveyed but little to
+her mind. The name "Bloomsbury" seemed to come over and over again.
+There were many dates and other names, but "Bloomsbury" certainly
+prevailed, and it was evident that Captain Middleton's dog had a long
+pedigree; it was all quite clearly set down, and, to Jan, very
+bewildering.
+
+"His points are on the back page," Captain Middleton said proudly, "and
+there isn't a single one a perfect bull-terrier ought to have that
+William Bloomsbury hasn't got."
+
+"Is that his name?"
+
+"Yes, but I call him William, only he is of the famous Bloomsbury
+strain, you know, and one can't help being a bit proud of it."
+
+"But," Jan objected, "if he's so well-bred and perfect, he must be
+valuable--so why should you want to give him to me?"
+
+"I'll explain," said Captain Middleton. "You see, ever since they've
+been down at Wren's End, my aunt kept him for me. He's been so happy
+there, Miss Ross, and grown like anything. We're stationed in St. John's
+Wood just now, you know, and he'd be certain to be stolen if I took him
+back there. And now my aunt's coming to London to a flat in Buckingham
+Gate. Now London's no life for a dog--a young dog, anyway--he'd be
+miserable. I've been down to Wren's End very often for a few days'
+hunting, and I can see he's happy as a king there, and we may be ordered
+anywhere any day ... and I don't want to sell him ... You see, I know if
+you take him you'll be good to him ... and he _is_ such a nice beast."
+
+"How do you know I'd be good to him? You know nothing about me."
+
+"Don't I just! Besides, I've seen you, I'm seeing you now this
+minute ... I don't want to force him on you, only ... a lady living
+alone in the country ought to have a dog, and if you take William you
+won't be sorry--I can promise you that. He's got the biggest heart, and
+he's the nicest beast ... and the most faithful...."
+
+"Are you sure he'll be quite gentle with the children?"
+
+"He's gentle with everybody, and they're well known to be particularly
+good with children ... you ask anyone who knows about dogs. He was given
+me when he was three weeks old, and I could put him in my pocket."
+
+Captain Middleton was rather appealing just then, so earnest and big and
+boyish. His face was broad though lean, the features rather blunt, the
+eyes set wide apart; clear, trustworthy, light-blue eyes. He looked just
+what he was--a healthy, happy, prosperous young Englishman without a
+real care in the world. After all, Jan reflected, there was plenty of
+room at Wren's End, and it was good for the children to grow up with
+animals.
+
+"I had thought of an Airedale," she said thoughtfully, "but----"
+
+"They're good dogs, but quarrelsome--fight all the other dogs round
+about. Now William isn't a fighter unless he's unbearably provoked,
+then, of course, he fights to kill."
+
+"Oh dear!" sighed Jan, "that's an awful prospect. Think of the trouble
+with one's neighbours----"
+
+"But I assure you, it doesn't happen once in a blue moon. I've never
+known him fight yet."
+
+"I'll tell you what, Captain Middleton; let me keep him for the present,
+till you know where you're going to be stationed, and then, if you find
+you can have him, he's there for you to take. I'll do my best for him,
+but I want you to feel he's still your dog...."
+
+"It's simply no end good of you, Miss Ross. I'd like you to have him
+though ... May I put it this way? If you don't like him, find him a
+nuisance or want to get rid of him, you send for me and I'll fetch him
+away directly. But if you like him, he's your dog. There--may I leave it
+at that?"
+
+"We'll try to make him happy, but I expect he'll miss you dreadfully....
+I know nothing about bull-terriers; do they need any special
+treatment?"
+
+"Oh dear, no. William's as strong as a young calf. Just a bone
+occasionally and any scraps there are. There's tons of his biscuits down
+there ... only two meals a day and no snacks between, and as much
+exercise as is convenient--though, mind you, they're easy dogs in that
+way--they don't need you to be racing about all day like some."
+
+The present fate of William Bloomsbury with the lengthy and exalted
+pedigree being settled, Jan asked politely for her tenants, Colonel and
+Mrs. Walcote, heard that it had been an excellent and open season, and
+enjoyed her guest's real enthusiasm about Wren's End.
+
+After a few minutes of general conversation he got up to go. She saw him
+out and rang up the lift, but no lift came. She rang again and again.
+Nothing happened. Evidently something had gone wrong, and she saw people
+walking upstairs to the flats below. Just as she was explaining the
+mishap to her guest, the telephone bell sounded loudly and persistently.
+
+"Oh dear!" she cried. "Would you mind very much stopping a young lady
+with two little children, if you meet them at the bottom of the stairs,
+and tell her she is on no account to carry up little Fay. It's my
+friend, Miss Morton; she's out with them, and she's not at all strong;
+tell her to wait for me. I'll come the minute I've answered this
+wretched 'phone."
+
+"Don't you worry, Miss Ross, I'll stop 'em and carry up the kiddies
+myself," Captain Middleton called as he started to run down, and Jan
+went back to answer the telephone.
+
+He ran fast, for Jan's voice had been anxious and distressed. Five long
+flights did he descend, and at the bottom he met Meg and the children
+just arrived to hear the melancholy news from the hall porter.
+
+Meg always wheeled little Fay to and from the gardens in the funny
+little folding "pram" they had brought from India. The plump baby was a
+tight fit, but the queer little carriage was light and easily managed.
+The big policeman outside the gate often held up the traffic to let Meg
+and her charges get across the road safely, and she would sail serenely
+through the avenue of fiercely panting monsters with Tony holding on to
+her coat, while little Fay waved delightedly to the drivers. That
+afternoon she was very tired, for it had started to rain, cold, gusty
+March rain. She had hurried home in dread lest Tony should take cold. It
+seemed the last straw, somehow, that the lift should have gone wrong.
+She left the pram with the porter and was just bracing herself to carry
+heavy little Fay when this very tall young man came dashing down the
+staircase, saw them and raised his hat. "Miss Morton? Miss Ross has just
+entrusted me with a message ... that I'm to carry her niece upstairs,"
+and he took little Fay out of Meg's arms.
+
+Meg looked up at him. She had to look up a long way--and he looked down
+into a very small white face.
+
+The buffeting wind that had given little Fay the loveliest colour, and
+Tony a very pink nose, only left Meg pallid with fatigue; but she smiled
+at Captain Middleton, and it was a smile of such radiant happiness as
+wholly transfigured her face. It came from the exquisite knowledge that
+Jan had thought of her, had known she would be tired.
+
+To be loved, to be remembered, to be taken care of was to Meg the most
+wonderful thing in the world. It went to her head like wine.
+
+Therefore did she smile at Captain Middleton in this distracting
+fashion. It started tremblingly at the corners of her mouth, and
+then--quite suddenly--her wan little face became dimpled and beseeching
+and triumphant all at once.
+
+It had no connection whatsoever with Captain Middleton, but how was he
+to know that?
+
+It fairly bowled him, middle stump, first ball.
+
+No one had ever smiled at him like that before. It turned him hot and
+cold, and gave him a lump in his throat with the sheer heartrending
+pathos of it. And he felt an insane desire to lie down and ask this
+tiny, tired girl to walk upon him if it would give her the smallest
+satisfaction.
+
+The whole thing passed in a flash, but for him it was one of those
+illuminating beams that discovers a hitherto undreamed-of panorama.
+
+He caught up little Fay, who made no objection, and ran up all five
+flights about as fast as he had run down. Jan was just coming out of the
+flat.
+
+"Here's one!" he cried breathlessly, depositing little Fay. "And now
+I'll go down and give the little chap a ride as well."
+
+He met them half-way up. "Now it's your turn," he said to Tony. "Would
+you like to come on my back?"
+
+Tony, though taciturn, was not unobservant. "I think," he said solemnly,
+"Meg's more tired nor me. P'raps you'd better take her."
+
+Meg laughed, and what the rain and wind could not do, Tony managed. Her
+cheeks grew rosy.
+
+"I'm afraid I should be rather heavy, Tony dear, but it's kind of you to
+think of it."
+
+She looked up at Captain Middleton and smiled again. What a kind world
+it was! And really that tall young man was rather a pleasant person. So
+it fell out that Tony was carried the rest of the way, and he had a
+longer ride than little Fay; for his steed mounted the staircase
+soberly, keeping pace with Meg; they even paused to take breath on the
+landings. And it came about that Captain Middleton went back into the
+flat with the children, showing no disposition to go away, and Jan could
+hardly do less than ask him to share the tea she had laid in the
+dining-room.
+
+There he got a shock, for Meg came to tea in her cap and apron.
+
+Out of doors she wore a long, warm coat that entirely covered the green
+linen frock, and a little round fur hat. This last was a concession to
+Jan, who hated the extinguisher. So Meg looked very much like any other
+girl. A little younger, perhaps, than any young woman of twenty-five
+has any business to look, but pretty in her queer, compelling way.
+
+That she looked even prettier in her uniform Captain Middleton would
+have been the first to allow; but he hated it nevertheless. There seemed
+to him something incongruous and wrong for a girl with a smile like that
+to be anybody's nursemaid.
+
+To be sure, Miss Ross was a brick, and this queer little servant of hers
+called her by her Christian name and contradicted her flatly twice in
+the course of tea. Miss Morton certainly did not seem to be downtrodden
+... but she wore a cap and an apron--a very becoming Quakerish cap ...
+without any strings ... and--"it's a d----d shame," was the outcome of
+all Captain Middleton's reflections.
+
+"Would the man never go?" Jan wondered, when after a prolonged and
+hilarious tea he followed the enraptured children back to the
+drawing-room and did tricks with the fire-irons.
+
+Meg had departed in order to get things ready for the night, and he hung
+on in the hope that she would return. Vain hope; there was no sign of
+her.
+
+He told the children all about William Bloomsbury and exacted promises
+that they would love him very much. He discussed, with many
+interruptions from Fay, who wanted all his attention, the entire
+countryside round about Wren's End; and, at last, as there seemed really
+no chance of that extraordinary girl's return, he heaved his great
+length out of his chair and bade his hostess a reluctant farewell
+several times over.
+
+In the passage he caught sight of Meg going from one room to another
+with her arms full of little garments.
+
+"Ah," he cried, striding towards her. "Good night, Miss Morton. I hope
+we shall meet again soon," and he held out his hand.
+
+Meg ignored the hand, her own arms were so full of clothes: "I'm afraid
+that's not likely," she said, with unfeeling cheerfulness. "We all go
+down to the country on Monday."
+
+"Yes, yes, I know. Jolly part of the world it is, too. I expect I shall
+be thereabouts a good deal this summer, my relations positively swarm in
+that county."
+
+"Good-bye," said Meg, and turned to go. Jan stood at the end of the
+passage, holding the door open.
+
+"I say, Miss Morton, you'll try and like my William, won't you?"
+
+"I like all sensible animals," was Meg's response, and she vanished into
+a bedroom.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+PERPLEXITIES
+
+
+"Don't you think it is very extraordinary that I have never had one line
+from Hugo since the letter I got at Aden?" asked Jan.
+
+It was Friday evening, the Indian mail was in, and there was a letter
+from Peter--the fourth since her return.
+
+"But you've heard of him from Mr. Ledgard," Meg pointed out.
+
+"Only that he had gone to Karachi from Bombay just before Fay
+died--surely he would see papers there. It seems so heartless never to
+have written me a line--I can't believe it, somehow, even of Hugo--he
+must be ill or something."
+
+"Perhaps he was ashamed to write. Perhaps he felt you would simply
+loathe him for being the cause of it all."
+
+"I did, I do," Jan exclaimed; "but all the same he is the children's
+father, and he was her husband--I don't want anything very bad to happen
+to him."
+
+"It would simplify things very much," Meg said dreamily.
+
+Jan held up her hand as if to ward off a blow.
+
+"Don't, Meg; sometimes I find myself wishing something of the kind, and
+I know it's wrong and horrible. I want as far as I can to keep in the
+right with regard to Hugo, to give him no grievance against me. I've
+written to that bank where he left the money, and asked them to forward
+the letters if he has left any address. I've told him exactly where we
+are and what we propose to do. Beyond the bare facts of Fay's death--I
+told him all about her illness as dispassionately as I could--I've never
+reproached him or said anything cruel. You see, the man is down and out;
+though Mr. Ledgard always declared he had any amount of mysterious wires
+to pull. Yet, I can't help wondering whether he is ill somewhere, with
+no money and no friends, in some dreadful native quarter."
+
+"What about the money in the bank, then? Did you use it?"
+
+Jan blushed. "No, I couldn't bear to touch his money ... Mr. Ledgard
+said it was idiotic...."
+
+"So it was; it was Fay's money, not his. For all your good sense, Jan,
+sometimes you're sentimental as a schoolgirl."
+
+"I daresay it was stupid, and I didn't dare to tell Mr. Ledgard I'd left
+it," Jan said humbly; "but I felt that perhaps that money might help him
+if things got very desperate; I left it in his name and a letter telling
+him I had done so ... I didn't _give_ him any money...."
+
+"It was precisely the same thing."
+
+"And he may never have got the letter."
+
+"I hope he hasn't."
+
+"Oh, Meg, I do so hate uncertainty. I'd rather know the worst. I always
+have the foreboding that he will suddenly turn up at Wren's End and
+threaten to take the children away ... and get money out of me that way
+... and there's none to spare...."
+
+"Jan, you've got into a thoroughly nervous, pessimistic state about
+Hugo. Why in the world should he _want_ the children? They'd be terribly
+in his way, and wherever he put them he'd have to pay _something_. You
+know very well his people wouldn't keep them for nothing, even if he
+were fool enough (for the sake of blackmailing you) to threaten to place
+them there. His sisters wouldn't--not for nothing. What did Fay say
+about his sisters? I remember one came to the wedding, but she has left
+no impression on my mind. He has two, hasn't he?"
+
+"Yes, but only one came, the Blackpool one. But Fay met both of them,
+for she spent a week-end with each, with Hugo, after she was married."
+
+"Well, and what did she say?"
+
+Jan laughed and sighed: "She said--you remember how Fay could say the
+severest things in the softest, gentlest voice--that 'for social
+purposes they were impossible, but they were doubtless excellent and
+worthy of all esteem and that they were exactly suited to the _milieu_
+in which they lived.'"
+
+"And where do they live?"
+
+"One lives at Blackpool--she's married to ... I forget exactly what he
+is--but it's something to do with letting houses. They're quite well off
+and all her towels had crochet lace at the ends. Fay was much impressed
+by this, as it scratched her nose. They also gave you 'doylies' at
+afternoon tea and no servant ever came into the room without knocking."
+
+"Any children?"
+
+"Yes, three."
+
+"And the other sister?"
+
+"She lives at Poulton-le-Fylde, and her husband had to do with a
+newspaper syndicate. Quite amusing he was, Fay says, but very shaky as
+to the letter 'H.'"
+
+"Would they like the children?"
+
+"They might, for they've none of their own, but they certainly wouldn't
+take them unless they were paid for, as they were not well off. They
+were rather down on the Blackpool sister, Fay said, for extravagance and
+general swank."
+
+"What about the grandparents?"
+
+"In Guernsey? They're quite nice old people, I believe, but
+curiously--of course I'm quoting Fay--comatose and uninterested in
+things, 'behindhand with the world,' she said. They thought Hugo very
+wonderful, and seemed rather afraid of him. What he has told them lately
+I don't know. He wrote very seldom, they said; but _I've_ written to
+them, saying I've got the children and where we shall be. If they
+express a wish to see the children I'll ask them to Wren's End. If, as
+would be quite reasonable, they say it's too far to come--they're old
+people, you know--I suppose one of us would need to take them over to
+Guernsey for a visit. I do so want to do the right thing all round, and
+then they can't say I've kept the children away from their father's
+relations."
+
+"Scotch people always think such a lot about relations," Meg grumbled.
+"I should leave them to stew in their own juice. Why should you bother
+about them if he doesn't?"
+
+"They're all quite respectable, decent folk, you know, though they
+mayn't be our kind. The father, I fancy, failed in business after he
+came back from India. Fay said he was very meek and depressed always. I
+think she was glad none of them came to the wedding except the Blackpool
+sister, for she didn't want Daddie to see them. He thought the Blackpool
+sister dreadful (he told me afterwards that she 'exacerbated his mind
+and offended his eye'), but he was charming to her and never said a word
+to Fay."
+
+"I don't see much sign of Hugo and his people in the children."
+
+"We can't tell, they're so little. One thing does comfort me, they show
+no disposition to tell lies; but that, I think, is because they have
+never been frightened. You see, everyone bowed down before them; and
+whatever Indian servants may be in other respects, they seem to me
+extraordinarily kind and patient with children."
+
+"Jan, what are your views about the bringing up of children?... You've
+never said ... and I should like to know. You see, we're both"--here Meg
+sighed deeply and looked portentously grave--"in a position of awful
+responsibility."
+
+They were sitting on each side of the hearth, with their toes on the
+fender. Meg had been sewing at an overall for little Fay, but at that
+moment she laid it on her knee and ran her hands through her cropped
+hair, then about two inches long all over her head, so that it stood on
+end in broken spirals and feathery curls above her bright eyes. In the
+evening the uniform was discarded "by request."
+
+Jan looked across at her and laughed.
+
+So funny and so earnest; so small, and yet so great with purpose.
+
+"I don't think I've any views. R. L. S. summed up the whole duty of
+children ages ago, and it's our business to see that they do it--that's
+all. Don't you remember:
+
+    A child should always say what's true,
+    And speak when he is spoken to,
+    And behave mannerly at table:
+    At least as far as he is able.
+
+It's no use to expect too much, is it?"
+
+"If you expect to get the second injunction carried out in the case of
+your niece you're a most optimistic person. For three weeks now I've
+been perambulating Kensington Gardens with those children, and I have
+never in the whole course of my life entered into conversation with so
+many strangers, and it's always she who begins it. Then complications
+arise and I have to intervene. I don't mind policemen and park-keepers
+and roadmen, but I rather draw the line at idly benevolent old gentlemen
+who join our party and seem to spend the whole morning with us...."
+
+"But, Meg, that never happens when I'm with you. I confess I've left
+you to it this last week...."
+
+"And what am I here for except to be left to it--I don't mean that
+anyone's rude or pushing--but Miss Tancred _is_ so friendly, and I'm not
+dignified and awe-inspiring like you, you great big Jan; and the poor
+men are encouraged, directly and deliberately encouraged, by your niece.
+I never knew a child with such a continual flow of conversation."
+
+"Poor Meg," said Jan, "you won't have much more of it. Little Fay _is_ a
+handful, I confess; but I always feel it must be a bit hard to be hushed
+continually--and just when one feels particularly bright and sparkling,
+to have all one's remarks cut short...."
+
+"You needn't pity that child. No amount of hushing has any effect; you
+might just as well hush a blackbird or a thrush. Don't look so worried,
+Jan. Did Mr. Ledgard say anything about Hugo in that letter to-night?"
+
+"Only that he was known to have left Karachi in a small steamer going
+round the coast, but after that nothing more. Mr. Ledgard has a friend
+in the Police, and even there they've heard nothing lately. I think
+myself the Indian Government _wants_ to lose sight of Hugo. He's
+inconvenient and disgraceful, and they'd like him blotted out as soon as
+possible."
+
+"What else does Mr. Ledgard say? He seems to write good long letters."
+
+"He is coming home at the end of April for six months."
+
+"Oh ... then we shall see him, I suppose?"
+
+"I hope so."
+
+Meg looked keenly at Jan, who was staring into the fire, her eyes soft
+and dreamy; and almost as if she was unconsciously thinking aloud, she
+said: "I do hope, if Hugo chooses to turn up, he'll wait till Mr.
+Ledgard is back in England."
+
+"You think he could manage him?"
+
+"I know he could."
+
+"Then let us pray for his return," said Meg.
+
+The clock on the mantelpiece struck eleven.
+
+"Bed-time," said Meg, "but I must have just one cigarette first. That's
+what's so lovely about being with you, Jan--you don't mind. Of course
+I'd never do it before the children."
+
+"You wouldn't shock them if you did. Fay smoked constantly."
+
+Meg lit her cigarette and clearly showed her real enjoyment. She had
+taken to it first when she was about fifteen, as she found it helped her
+to feel less hungry. Now it had become as much a necessity to her as to
+many men, and the long abstinence of term-time had always been a
+penance.
+
+She made some good rings, and, leaning forward to look through them at
+Jan, said: "By the way, I must just tell you that for the last three
+afternoons we've met that Captain Middleton in the Gardens."
+
+"Well?"
+
+"And he talks everlastingly about his dog--that William Bloomsbury
+creature. I know _all_ the points of a bull-terrier now--'Well-set head
+gradually tapering to muzzle, which is very powerful and well-filled up
+in front of the eyes. Nose large and black. Teeth dead-level and big'
+... oh! and reams more, every bit of him accurately described."
+
+"I'm a little afraid of those teeth so 'dead-level and big'--I foresee
+trouble."
+
+"Oh, no," said Meg easily. "He's evidently a most affectionate brute.
+That young man puzzles me. He's manifestly devoted to the dog, but he's
+so sure he'd be stolen he'd rather have him away from him down at Wren's
+End than here with him, to run that risk."
+
+"Surely," said Jan, "Kensington Gardens are some distance from St.
+John's Wood."
+
+"So one would think, but the rich and idle take taxis, and he seems to
+think he can in some way insure the welfare of his dog through the
+children and me."
+
+"And what about the old gentlemen? Do they join the party as well?"
+
+"Oh, dear no; no old gentlemen would dare to come within miles of us
+with that young man in charge of little Fay. He's like your Mr.
+Ledgard--very protective."
+
+"I like him for being anxious about his dog, but I'm not quite so sure
+that I approve of the means he takes to insure its happiness."
+
+"I didn't encourage him in the least, I assure you. I pointed out that
+he most certainly ought not to be walking about with a nurse and two
+children. That the children without the nurse would be all right, but
+that my being there made the whole thing highly inexpedient, and _infra
+dig_."
+
+"Meg!... you didn't!"
+
+"I did, indeed. There was no use mincing matters."
+
+"And what did he say?"
+
+"He said, 'Oh, that's all bindles'--whatever that may mean."
+
+"You mustn't go to the Gardens alone any more. I'll come with you
+to-morrow, or, better still, we'll all go to Kew if it's fine."
+
+"I _should_ be glad, though I grudge the fares; but you needn't come. I
+know how busy you are, with Hannah away and so much to see to--and what
+earthly use am I if I can't look after the children without you?"
+
+"You do look after the children without me for hours and hours on end. I
+could never trust anyone else as I do you."
+
+"I _am_ getting to manage them," Meg said proudly; "but just to-day I
+must tell you--it was rather horrid--we came face to face with the
+Trents in the Baby's Walk. Mrs. Trent and Lotty, the second girl, the
+big, handsome one--and he evidently knows them...."
+
+"Who evidently knows them?"
+
+"Captain Middleton, silly! (I told you he was with us, talking about his
+everlasting dog)--and they greeted him with effusion, so he had to stop.
+But you can imagine how they glared at me. Of course I walked on with
+Tony, but little Fay had his hand--I was wheeling the go-cart thing and
+she stuck firmly to him, and I heard her interrupting the conversation
+all the time. He followed us directly, I'll say that for him, but it was
+a bad moment ... You see, they had a right to glare...."
+
+"They had nothing of the kind. I wish I got the chance of glaring at
+them. Daddie _saw_ Mrs. Trent; he explained everything, and she said she
+quite understood."
+
+"She would, to him, he was so nice always; but you see, Jan, I know what
+she believes and what she has said, and what she will probably say to
+Captain Middleton if she gets the chance."
+
+Meg's voice broke. "Of course I don't care----"
+
+She held her tousled head very high and stuck out her sharp little chin.
+
+"My dear," said Jan, "what with my gregarious niece and my
+too-attractive nurse, I think it's a good thing we're all going down to
+Wren's End, where the garden-walls are high and the garden fairly large.
+Besides all that, there will be that dog with the teeth 'dead-level and
+big.'"
+
+"Remember," said Meg. "He treated me like a princess always."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV
+
+WREN'S END
+
+
+It stands just beyond the village of Amber Guiting, on the side furthest
+from the station, which is a mile from the village.
+
+"C. C. S. 1819" is carved above the front door, but the house was built
+a good fifty years previous to that date.
+
+One Charles Considine Smith, who had been a shipper of sherry in
+Billiter Street, in the City of London, bought it in that year from a
+Quaker called Solomon Page, who planted the yew hedge that surrounds the
+smooth green lawn seen from the windows of the morning-room. There was a
+curious clause attached to the title-deeds, which stipulated that no
+cats should be kept by the owner of Wren's End, lest they should
+interfere with the golden-crested wrens that built in the said yew
+hedge, or the brown wrens building at the foot of the hedges in the
+orchard. Appended to this injunction were the following verses:
+
+    If aught disturb the wrens that build,
+    If ever little wren be killed
+    By dweller in Wren's End--
+
+    Misfortunes--whence he shall not know--
+    Shall fall on him like noiseless snow,
+    And all his steps attend.
+
+    Peace be upon this house; and all
+    That dwell therein good luck befall,
+    That do the wrens befriend.
+
+Charles Considine Smith faithfully kept to his agreement regarding the
+protection of the wrens, and much later wrote a series of articles upon
+their habits, which appeared in the _North Cotswold Herald_. He seems to
+have been on friendly terms with Solomon Page, who, having inherited a
+larger property in the next county, removed thence when he sold Wren's
+End.
+
+In 1824 Smith married Tranquil Page, daughter of Solomon. She was then
+thirty-seven years old, and, according to one of her husband's diaries,
+"a staid person like myself." She was twenty years younger than her
+husband and bore him one child, a daughter also named Tranquil.
+
+She, however, appears to have been less staid than her parents, for she
+ran away before she was twenty with a Scottish advocate called James
+Ross.
+
+The Smiths evidently forgave the wilful Tranquil, for, on the death of
+Charles, she and her husband left Scotland and settled with her mother
+at Wren's End. She had two children, Janet, the great-aunt who left Jan
+Wren's End, and James, Jan's grandfather, who was sent to Edinburgh for
+his education, and afterwards became a Writer to the Signet. He married
+and settled in Edinburgh, preferring Scotland to England, and it was
+with his knowledge and consent that Wren's End was left to his sister
+Janet.
+
+Janet never married. She was energetic, prudent, and masterful, having
+an excellent head for business. She was kind to her nephews and nieces
+in a domineering sort of way, and had always a soft place in her heart
+for Anthony, though she regarded him as more or less of a scatter-brain.
+When she was nearly eighty she commanded his little girls to visit her.
+Jan was then fourteen and Fay eleven. She liked them because they had
+good manners and were neither of them in the least afraid of her. And at
+her death, six years later, she left Wren's End to Jan absolutely--as it
+stood; but she left her money to Anthony's elder brother, who had a
+large family and was not particularly well off.
+
+That year was a good artistic year for Anthony, and he spent over five
+hundred pounds in--as he put it--"making Jan's house habitable."
+
+This proved not a bad investment, for they had let it every winter since
+to Colonel Walcote for the hunting season, as three packs of hounds met
+within easy reach of it; and although the stabling accommodation at
+Wren's End was but small, plenty of loose boxes were always obtainable
+from Farmer Burgess quite near.
+
+Amber Guiting is a big village, almost a little town. It possesses an
+imposing main street wherein are several shops, among them a stationer's
+with a lending library in connection with Mudie's; a really beautiful
+old inn with a courtyard; and grave-looking, dignified houses occupied
+by the doctor, a solicitor, and several other persons of acknowledged
+gentility.
+
+There were many "nice places" round about, and altogether the
+inhabitants of Amber Guiting prided themselves, with some reason, on the
+social and aesthetic advantages of their neighbourhood. Moreover, it is
+not quite three hours from Paddington. You catch the express from the
+junction.
+
+Notwithstanding all these agreeable circumstances, William Bloomsbury
+was very lonely and miserable.
+
+All the friends he knew and loved had gone, leaving him in the somewhat
+stepmotherly charge of a caretaker from the village, who was supposed to
+be getting the house ready for its owner. To join her came
+Hannah--having left her young ladies with an "orra-buddy" in the flat.
+And after Hannah came the caretaker-lady did not stop long, for their
+ideas on the subject of cleanliness were diametrically opposed. Hannah
+was faithful and punctual as regarded William's meals; but though his
+body was more comfortable than during the caretaker's reign, his heart
+was empty and hungry, and he longed ardently for social intercourse and
+an occasional friendly pat.
+
+Presently in Hannah's train came Anne Chitt, a meek young assistant from
+the village, who did occasionally gratify William's longing for a little
+attention; but so soon as she began to pat him and say he was a good
+dog, she was called away by Hannah to sweep or dust or wash something.
+In William's opinion the whole house was a howling wilderness where
+pails of water easily upset, and brooms that fell upon the unsuspecting
+with resounding blows lay ambushed in unexpected places.
+
+Men and dogs alike abhor "spring-cleaning," and William's heart died
+within him.
+
+There came a day, however, when things were calmer. The echoing,
+draughty house grew still and warm, and a fire was lit in the hall.
+William lay in front of it unmolested; but he felt dejected and lonely,
+and laid his head down on his crossed paws in patient melancholy.
+
+Late in the afternoon, there came a sound of wheels in the drive. Hannah
+and Anne Chitt, decorous in black dresses and clean aprons, came into
+the hall and opened the front door, and in three minutes William knew
+that happier times were in store for him. The "station-fly" stopped at
+the door, and regardless of Hannah's reproving voice he rushed out to
+welcome the strangers. Two children, nice children, who appeared as glad
+to see him as he was to see them, who wished him many happy returns of
+his birthday--William had forgotten it was his birthday--and were as
+lavish with pats and what little Fay called "stlokes" as Hannah had been
+niggardly. There were also two young ladies, who addressed him kindly
+and seemed pleasantly aware of his existence, and William liked young
+ladies, for the three Miss Walcotes had thoroughly spoiled him. But he
+decided to attach himself most firmly to the children and the very small
+young lady. Perhaps they would stay. In his short experience grown
+people had a cruel way of disappearing. There was that tall young man
+... William hardly dared let himself think about that tall young man who
+had allowed him to lie upon his bed and was so kind and jolly. "Master"
+William had called him. Ah, where was he? Perhaps he would come back
+some day. In the meantime here were plenty of people to love. William
+cheered up.
+
+[Illustration: William rushed out to welcome the strangers. Two ... nice
+children.]
+
+He wished to ingratiate himself, and proceeded to show off his one
+accomplishment. With infinite difficulty and patience the Miss Walcotes
+had taught him to "give a paw"; so now, on this first evening, William
+followed the children about solemnly offering one paw and then the
+other; a performance which was greeted with acclamation.
+
+When the children went to the bathroom he somehow got shut outside. So
+he lay down and breathed heavily through the bottom of the door and
+varied this by thin, high-pitched yelps--which were really squeals, and
+very extraordinary as proceeding from such a large and heavy dog.
+
+"William wants to come in," Tony said. He still always accompanied his
+sister to the bath.
+
+Meg was seized with an inspiration. "I know why," she exclaimed. "He
+expects to see little Fay in the big bath."
+
+Fay looked from Meg to her brother and from her brother to Meg.
+
+Another dismal squeal from under the door.
+
+"Does he tluly espect it?" she asked anxiously.
+
+"I think so," Meg said gravely, "and we can't let him in if you're going
+to be washed in the little bath; he'd be so disappointed."
+
+The little bath stood ready on its stand. Fay turned her back upon it
+and went and looked over the edge of the big bath. It was a very big
+bath, white and beautiful, with innumerable silvered handles that
+produced sprays and showers and waves and all sorts of wonders. An
+extravagance of Anthony's.
+
+"Will William come in, too?" she asked.
+
+"No; he'd make such a mess; but he'd love to see you. We'll all bathe
+William some other time."
+
+More squeals from outside, varied by dolorous snores.
+
+"Let him in," said little Fay. "I'll show him me."
+
+Quick as thought Meg lifted her in, opened the door to the delighted
+William, who promptly stood on his hind legs, with his front paws on the
+bath, and looked over the edge at little Fay.
+
+"See me swim," she exclaimed proudly, sitting down in the water, while
+William, with his tongue hanging out and a fond smile of admiration on
+his foolish countenance, tried to lick the plump pink shoulders
+presented to his view. "This is a muts nicer baff than the nasty little
+one. I can't think what you bringed it for, deah Med."
+
+"Deah Med" and Tony nodded gaily to one another.
+
+Hannah had made William sleep in the scullery, which he detested. She
+put his basket there and his blanket, and he was warm enough, but
+creature comforts matter little to the right kind of dog. It's human
+fellowship he craves. That night she came to fetch him at bed-time, and
+he refused point-blank to go. He put his head on Meg's knee and gazed at
+her with beseeching eyes that said as plainly as possible: "Don't banish
+me--where you go I go--don't break my heart and send me away into the
+cold."
+
+Perhaps the cigarette smoke that hung about Meg gave him confidence. His
+master smelt like that. And William went to bed with his master.
+
+"D'you think he might sleep in the dressing-room?" Meg asked. "I know
+how young dogs hate to be alone at night. Put his basket there,
+Hannah--I'll let him out and see to him, and you could get him first
+thing in the morning."
+
+Hannah gave a sniff of disapproval, but she was always very careful to
+do whatever Meg asked her at once and ungrudgingly. It was partly an
+expression of her extreme disapproval of the uniform. But Meg thought it
+was prompted entirely by Hannah's fine feeling, and loved her dearly in
+consequence.
+
+Nearly all the bedrooms at Wren's End had dressing-rooms. Tony slept in
+Jan's, with the door between left open. Fay's little cot was drawn up
+close to Meg's bed. William and his basket occupied the dressing-room,
+and here, also, the door was left open.
+
+While Meg undressed, William was quite still and quiet, but when she
+knelt down to say her prayers he was overcome with curiosity, and,
+getting out of his basket, lurched over to her to see what she was
+about. Could she be crying that she covered her face? William couldn't
+bear people to cry.
+
+He thrust his head under her elbow. She put her arm round his neck and
+he sat perfectly still.
+
+"Pray for your master, William," Meg whispered.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"I like to look at it," said Tony.
+
+"Oh, London may be very gay, but it's nothing to the countryside," sang
+Meg.
+
+"What nelse?" inquired little Fay, who could never be content with a
+mere snatch of song.
+
+"Oh, there's heaps and heaps of nelse," Jan answered. "Come along,
+chicks, we'll go and see everything. This is home, you know, where dear
+Mummy wanted you to be."
+
+It was their first day at Wren's End, and the weather was kind. They
+were all four in the drive, looking back at the comfortable
+stone-fronted Georgian house. The sun was shining, a cheerful April sun
+that had little warmth in it but much tender light; and this showed how
+all around the hedges were getting green; that buds were bursting from
+brown twigs, as if the kind spring had covered the bare trees with a
+thin green veil; and that all sorts of green spears were thrusting up in
+the garden beds.
+
+Down the drive they all four ran, accompanied by a joyfully galumphing
+William, who was in such good spirits that he occasionally gave vent to
+a solemn deep-chested bark.
+
+When they came to the squat grey lodge, there was Mrs. Earley standing
+in her doorway to welcome them. Mrs. Earley was Earley's mother, and
+Earley was gardener and general factotum at Wren's End. Mrs. Earley
+looked after the chickens, and when she had exchanged the news with Jan,
+and rather tearfully admired "poor Mrs. Tancred's little 'uns," she
+escorted them all to the orchard to see the cocks and hens and chickens.
+Then they visited the stable, where Placid, the pony, was sole occupant.
+In former years Placid had been kept for the girls to drive in the
+governess-cart and to pull the heavy lawn-mower over the lawns. And
+Hannah had been wont to drive him into Amesberrow every Sunday, that she
+might attend the Presbyterian church there. She put him up at a
+livery-stable near her church and always paid for him herself. Anthony
+Ross usually had hired a motor for the summer months. Now they would
+depend entirely on Placid and a couple of bicycles for getting about.
+All round the walled garden did they go, and Meg played horses with the
+children up and down the broad paths while Jan discussed vegetables with
+Earley. And last of all they went to the back door to ask Hannah for
+milk and scones, for the keen, fresh air had made them all hungry.
+
+Refreshed and very crumby, they were starting out again when Hannah laid
+a detaining hand on Jan's arm: "Could you speak a minute, Miss Jan?"
+
+The children and Meg gone, Hannah led the way into the kitchen with an
+air of great mystery; but she did not shut the doors, as Anne Chitt was
+busy upstairs.
+
+"What is it, Hannah?" Jan asked nervously, for she saw that this
+summons portended something serious.
+
+"It's about Miss Morton I want to speak, Miss Jan. I was in hopes she'd
+never wear they play-acting claes down here ..." (when Hannah was deeply
+earnest she always became very Scotch), "but it seems I hoped in vain.
+And what am I to say to ither folk when they ask me about her?"
+
+"What is there to say, Hannah, except that she is my dear friend, and by
+her own wish is acting as nurse to my sister's children?"
+
+"I ken that; I'm no sayin' a word against that; but first of all she
+goes and crops her hair--fine hair she had too, though an awfu-like
+colour--and not content with flying in the face of Providence that way,
+she must needs dress like a servant. And no a weiss-like servant,
+either, but one o' they besoms ye see on the hoardings in London wha act
+in plays. Haven't I seen the pictures mysel'? 'The Quaker Gerrl,' or
+some such buddy."
+
+"Oh, I assure you, Hannah, Miss Morton in no way resembles those ladies,
+and I can't see that it's any business of ours what she wears. You know
+that she certainly does what she has undertaken to do in the best way
+possible."
+
+"I'm no saying a word against her wi' the children, and there never was
+a young lady who gave less trouble, save in the way o' tobacco ash, and
+was more ready to help--but yon haverals is very difficult to explain.
+_You_ may understand, Miss Jan. I may _say_ I understand--though I
+don't--but who's to make the like o' that Anne Chitt understand? Only
+this morning she keeps on at me wi' her questions like the clapper o' a
+bell. 'Is she a servant? If she's no, why does she wear servants' claes?
+Why does she have hair like a boy? Has she had a fever or something
+wrong wi' her heid? Is she one of they suffragette buddies and been in
+prison?'--till I was fair deeved and bade the lassie hold her tongue.
+But so it will be wherever Miss Morton goes in they fantastic claes.
+Now, Miss Jan, tell me the honest truth--did you ever see a
+self-respecting, respectable servant in the like o' yon? Does she _look_
+like any servant you've ever heard tell of out of a stage-play?"
+
+"Not a bit, Hannah; she looks exactly like herself, and therefore not in
+the least like any other person. Don't you worry. Miss Morton requires
+no explanation. All we must do is to see that she doesn't overwork
+herself."
+
+"Then ye'll no speak to her, Miss Jan?"
+
+"Not I, Hannah. Why should I dictate to her as to what she wears? She
+doesn't dictate to me."
+
+This was not strictly true, for Meg was most interfering in the matter
+of Jan's clothes. Hannah shook her head. "I thocht it my duty to speak,
+Miss Jan, and I'll say no more. But it's sheer defiance o' her Maker to
+crop her heid and to clothe herself in whim-whams, when she could be
+dressed like a lady; and I'm real vexed she should make such an object
+of herself when she might just be quite unnoticeable, sae wee and
+shelpit as she is."
+
+"I'm afraid," said Jan, "that Miss Morton will never be quite
+unnoticeable, whatever she may wear. But don't let us talk about it any
+more. You understand, don't you, Hannah?"
+
+When Jan's voice took that tone Hannah knew that further argument was
+unavailing.
+
+Jan turned to go, and saw Tony waiting for her in the open doorway.
+Neither of them had either heard or seen him come.
+
+Quite silently he took her hand and did not speak till they were well
+away from the house. Meg and little Fay were nowhere in sight. Jan
+wondered how much he had heard.
+
+"She's a very proud cook, isn't she?" he said presently.
+
+"She's a very old servant," Jan explained, "who has known me all my
+life."
+
+"If," said Tony, as though after deep thought, "she gets very
+chubbelsome, you send for me. Then I will go to her and say '_Jao!_'"
+Tony followed this up by some fluent Hindustani which, had Jan but known
+it, seriously reflected on the character of Hannah's female ancestry.
+"I'll say '_Jao!_'," he went on. "I'll say it several times very loud,
+and point to the door. Then she'll roll up her bedding, and you'll give
+her money and her chits, and she will depart."
+
+They had reached a seat. On this Jan sank, for the vision of Tony
+pointing majestically down the drive while little Hannah staggered into
+the distance under a rolled-up mattress, was too much for her.
+
+"But I don't want her to go," she gasped. "I love her dearly."
+
+"She should not speak to you like that; she scolded you," he said
+firmly. "She is a servant ... She _is_ a servant?" he added doubtfully.
+
+"How much did you hear of what she said? Did you understand?"
+
+"I came back directly to fetch you, I thought she _sounded_ cross. Mummy
+was afraid when people were cross; she liked me to be with her. I
+thought you would like me to be with you. If she was very rude I could
+beat her. I beat the boy--not Peter's boy, our boy--he was rude to
+Mummy. He did not dare to touch me because I am a sahib ... I will beat
+Hannah if you like."
+
+Tony stood in front of Jan, very earnest, with an exceedingly pink nose,
+for the wind was keen. He had never before said so much at one time.
+
+"Shall I go back and beat her?" he asked again.
+
+"Certainly not," Jan cried, clutching Tony lest he should fly off there
+and then. "We don't _do_ such things here at home. Nobody is beaten,
+ever. I'm sure Peter never beats his servants."
+
+"No," Tony allowed. "A big sahib must not strike a servant, but I can,
+and I do if they are rude. She was rude about Meg."
+
+"She didn't mean to be rude."
+
+"She found fault with her clothes and her hair. She is a very proud and
+impudent cook."
+
+"Tony dear, you really don't understand. She wasn't a bit rude. She was
+afraid other people might mistake Meg for a servant. She was all _for_
+Meg--truly she was."
+
+"She scolded you," he rejoined obstinately.
+
+"Not really, Tony; she didn't mean to scold."
+
+Tony looked very hard at Jan.
+
+In silence they stared at one another for quite a minute. Jan got up off
+the seat.
+
+"Let's go and find the others," she said.
+
+"She is a very proud cook," Tony remarked once more.
+
+Jan sighed.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+That night while she was getting ready for bed Tony woke up. His cot was
+placed so that he could see into Jan's room, and the door between was
+always left open. She was standing before the dressing-table, taking
+down her hair.
+
+Unlike the bedrooms at the flat, the room was not cold though both the
+windows were open. Wren's End was never cold, though always fresh, for
+one of Anthony's earliest improvements had been a boiler-house and
+central heating, with radiators set under the windows, so that they
+could always stand open.
+
+Jan had not put on her dressing-gown, and her night-dress had rather
+short, loose sleeves that fell back from her arms as she raised them.
+
+He watched the white arm wielding the brush with great pleasure; he
+decided he liked to look at it.
+
+"Auntie Jan!"
+
+She turned and flung her hair back from her face in a great silver
+cloud.
+
+"You awake, sonny! Did I make a noise?"
+
+"No, I just woke. Auntie Jan, will Daddie ever come here?"
+
+"I expect so."
+
+"Well, listen. If he does, he shan't take your things, your pretty
+twinkly things. I won't let him."
+
+Jan stood as if turned to stone.
+
+"He took Mummy's. I saw him; I couldn't stop him, I was so little. But
+she _said_--she said it twice before she went away from that last
+bungalow--she said: 'Take care of Auntie Jan, Tony; don't let Daddie
+take her things.' So I won't."
+
+Tony was sitting up. His room was all in darkness; two candles were lit
+on Jan's dressing-table. He could see her, but she couldn't see him.
+
+She came to him, stooped over him, and laid her cheek against his so
+that they were both veiled with her hair. "Darling, I don't think poor
+Daddie would want to take my things. You must try not to think hardly of
+Daddie."
+
+Tony parted the veil of hair with a gentle hand so that they could both
+see the candles.
+
+"You don't know my Daddie ... much," he said, "do you?"
+
+Jan shuddered.
+
+"I saw him," he went on in his queer little unemotional voice. "I saw
+him take all her pretty twinkly things; and her silver boxes. I'm glad I
+sleep here."
+
+"Did she mind much?" Jan whispered.
+
+"I don't know. She didn't see him take them, only me. She hadn't come to
+bed. She never said nothing to me--only about you."
+
+"I don't expect," Jan made a great effort to speak naturally, "that
+Daddie would care about my things ... It's different, you see."
+
+"I'm glad I sleep here," Tony repeated, "and there's William only just
+across the passage."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI
+
+"THE BLUDGEONINGS OF CHANCE"
+
+
+They had been at Wren's End nearly three weeks, and sometimes Jan
+wondered if she appeared to Tony as unlike her own conception of herself
+as Tony's of his father was unlike what she had pictured him.
+
+She knew Hugo Tancred to be dishonest, shifty, and wholly devoid of a
+sense of honour, but she had up till quite lately always thought of him
+as possessing a lazy sort of good-nature.
+
+Tony was changing this view.
+
+He was not yet at all talkative, but every now and then when he was
+alone with her he became frank and communicative, as reserved people
+often will when suddenly they let themselves go. And his very simplicity
+gave force to his revelations.
+
+During their last year together in India it was evident that downright
+antagonism had existed between Hugo Tancred and his little son. Tony had
+weighed his father and found him wanting; and it was clear that he had
+tried to insert his small personality as a buffer between his father and
+mother.
+
+Jan talked constantly to the children of their mother. Her portraits,
+Anthony's paintings and sketches, were all over the house, in every
+variety of happy pose. One of the best was hung at the foot of Tony's
+cot. The gentle blue eyes seemed to follow him in wistful benediction,
+and alone in bed at night he often thought of her, and of his home in
+India. It was, then, quite natural that he should talk of them to this
+Auntie Jan who had evidently loved his mother well; and from Tony Jan
+learned a good deal more about her brother-in-law than she had ever
+heard from his wife.
+
+Tony loved to potter about with his aunt in the garden. She worked
+really hard, for there was much to do, and he tried his best to assist,
+often being a very great hindrance; but she never sent him away, for she
+desired above all things to gain his confidence.
+
+One day after a hard half-hour's weeding, when Tony had wasted much time
+by pulling up several sorts of the wrong thing, Jan felt her temper
+getting edgy, so they sat down to rest upon one of the many convenient
+seats to be found at Wren's End. Anthony hated a garden where you
+couldn't sit comfortably and smoke, wheresoever the prospect was
+pleasing.
+
+Tony sat down too, looking almost rosy after his labours.
+
+He didn't sit close and cuddly, as little Fay would have done, but right
+at the other end of the seat, where he could stare at her. Every day was
+bringing Tony more surely to the conclusion that "he liked to look at"
+his aunt.
+
+"You like Meg, don't you?" he said.
+
+"No," Jan shook her head. "I don't like her. I love her; which is quite
+a different thing."
+
+"Do you like people and love them?"
+
+"I like some people--a great many people--then there are others, not so
+many, that I love--you're one of them."
+
+"Is Fay?"
+
+"Certainly, dear little Fay."
+
+"And Peter?"
+
+For a moment Jan hesitated. With heightened colour she met Tony's grave,
+searching eyes. Above everything she desired to be always true and
+sincere with him, that he might, as on that first night in England, feel
+that he "believed" her. "I have every reason to love Mr. Ledgard," she
+said slowly: "he was so wonderfully kind to all of us." She was
+determined to be loyal to Peter with poor Fay's children. Jan hated
+ingratitude. To have said she only liked Peter must have given Tony the
+impression that she was both forgetful and ungrateful. She would not
+risk that even though she might risk misunderstanding of another kind if
+he ever repeated her words to anybody else.
+
+Her heart beat rather faster than was comfortable, and she was thankful
+that she and Tony were alone.
+
+"Who _do_ you like?" he asked.
+
+"Nearly everybody; the people in the village, our good neighbours ...
+Can't you see the difference yourself? Now, you love your dear Mummy and
+you like ... say, William----"
+
+"No," Tony said firmly, "I love William. I don't think," he went on, "I
+like people ... much. Either I love them like you said, or I don't care
+about them at all ... or I hate them."
+
+"That," said Jan, "is a mistake. It's no use to hate people."
+
+"But if you feel like it ... I hate people if they cheat me."
+
+"But who on earth would cheat you? What do you mean?"
+
+"Once," said Tony, and by the monotonous, detached tone of his voice Jan
+knew he was going to talk about his father, "my Daddie asked me if I'd
+like to see smoke come out of his ears ... an' he said: 'Put your hand
+here on me and watch very careful.'" Tony pointed to Jan's chest. "I put
+my hand there and I watched and watched an' he hurt me with the end of
+his cigar. There's the mark!" He held out a grubby little hand, back
+uppermost, for Jan's inspection, and there, sure enough, was the little
+round white scar.
+
+"And what did you do?" she asked.
+
+"I bit him."
+
+"Oh, Tony, how dreadful!"
+
+"I shouldn't of minded so much if he'd really done it--the smoke out of
+his ears, I mean; but not one teeniest little puff came. I watched so
+careful ... He cheated me."
+
+Jan said nothing. What could she say? Hot anger burned in her heart
+against Hugo. She could have bitten him herself.
+
+"Peter was there," Tony went on, "and Peter said it served him right."
+
+"Yes," said Jan, grasping at this straw, "but what did Peter say to
+you?"
+
+"He said, 'Sahibs don't cry and sahibs don't bite,' and if I was a sahib
+I mustn't do it, so I don't. I don't bite people often."
+
+"I should hope not; besides, you know, sometimes quite good-natured
+people will do things in fun, never thinking it will hurt."
+
+Tony gazed gloomily at Jan. "He cheated me," he repeated. "He said he
+would make it come out of his ears, and it didn't. He didn't like
+me--that's why."
+
+"I don't think you ought to say that, and be so unforgiving. I expect
+Daddie forgot all about your biting him directly, and yet you remember
+what he did after this long time."
+
+Poor Jan did try so hard to be fair.
+
+"I wasn't afraid of him," Tony went on, as though he hadn't heard, "not
+really. Mummy was. She was drefully afraid. He said he'd whip me because
+I was so surly, and she was afraid he would ... I _knew_ he wouldn't,
+not unless he could do it some cheaty way, and you can't whip people
+that way. But it frightened Mummy. She used to send me away when he
+came...."
+
+Tony paused and knitted his brows, then suddenly he smiled. "But I
+always came back very quick, because I knew she wanted me, and I liked
+to look at him. He liked Fay, I suppose he liked to look at her, so do
+I. Nobody wants to look at me ... much ... except Mummy."
+
+"I do," Jan said hastily. "I like to look at you just every bit as much
+as I like to look at Fay. I think you care rather too much what people
+look like, Tony."
+
+"It does matter a lot," Tony said obstinately.
+
+"Other things matter much more. Courage and kindness and truth and
+honesty. Look at Mr. Ledgard--he's not what you'd call a beautiful
+person, and yet I'm sure we all like to look at him."
+
+"Sometimes you say Peter, and sometimes Mr. Ledgard. Why?"
+
+Again Jan's heart gave that queer, uncomfortable jump. She certainly
+always _thought_ of him as Peter. Quite unconsciously she occasionally
+spoke of him as Peter. Meg had observed this, but, unlike Tony, made no
+remark.
+
+"Why?" Tony repeated.
+
+"I suppose," Jan mumbled feebly, "it's because I hear the rest of you do
+it. I've no sort of right to."
+
+"Auntie Jan," Tony said earnestly. "What is a devil?"
+
+"I haven't the remotest idea, Tony," Jan replied, with the utmost
+sincerity.
+
+"It isn't anything very nice, is it, or nice to look at?"
+
+"It might be," said Jan, with Scottish caution.
+
+"Daddie used to call me a surly little devil--when I used to come back
+because Mummy was frightened ... she was always frightened when he
+talked about money, and he did it a lot ... When he saw me, he would
+say: 'Wot you doing here, you surly little devil--listening, eh?'"
+Tony's youthful voice took on such a snarl that Jan positively jumped,
+and put out her hand to stop him. "'I'll give you somefin to listen
+to....'"
+
+"Tony, Tony, couldn't you try to forget all that?"
+
+Tony shook his head. "No! I shall never forget it, because, you see,
+it's all mixed up with Mummy so, and you said"--here Tony held up an
+accusing small finger at Jan--"you said I was never to forget her, not
+the least little bit."
+
+"I know I did," Jan owned, and fell to pondering what was best to be
+done about these memories. Absently she dug her hoe into the ground,
+making ruts in the gravel, while Tony watched her solemnly.
+
+"Then why," he went on, "do you not want me to remember Daddie?"
+
+"Because," said Jan, "everything you seem to remember sounds so unkind."
+
+"Well, I can't help that," Tony answered.
+
+Jan arose from the seat. "If we sit idling here all afternoon," she
+remarked severely, "we shall never get that border weeded for Earley."
+
+The afternoon post came in at four, and when Jan went in there were
+several letters for her on the hall-table, spread out by Hannah in a
+neat row, one above the other. It was Saturday, and the Indian mail was
+in. There was one from Peter, but it was another letter that Jan seized
+first, turning it over and looking at the post-mark, which was
+remarkably clear. She knew the excellent handwriting well, though she
+had seen it comparatively seldom.
+
+It was Hugo Tancred's; and the post-mark was Port Said. She opened it
+with hands that trembled, and it said:
+
+      "MY DEAR JAN,
+
+      "In case other letters have miscarried, which is quite
+      possible while I was up country, let me assure you how
+      grateful I am for all you did for my poor wife and the
+      children--and for me in letting me know so faithfully what
+      your movements have been. I sent to the bank for your
+      letters while passing through Bombay recently, and but for
+      your kindness in allowing the money I had left for my
+      wife's use to remain to my credit, I should have been
+      unable to leave India, for things have gone sadly against
+      me, and the world is only too ready to turn its back upon a
+      broken man.
+
+      "When I saw by the notice in the papers that my beloved
+      wife was no more, I realised that for me the lamp is
+      shattered and the light of my life extinguished. All that
+      remains to me is to make the best of my poor remnant of
+      existence for the sake of my children.
+
+      "We will talk over plans when we meet. I hope to be in
+      England in about another month, perhaps sooner, and we will
+      consult together as to what is best to be done.
+
+      "I have no doubt it will be possible to find a good and
+      cheap preparatory school where Tony can be safely bestowed
+      for the present, and one of my sisters would probably take
+      my precious little Fay, if you find it inconvenient to have
+      her with you. A boy is always better at school as soon as
+      possible, and I have strong views as to the best methods of
+      education. I never for a moment forget my responsibilities
+      towards my children and the necessity for a father's
+      supreme authority.
+
+      "You may be sure that, in so far as you make it possible
+      for me to do so, I will fall in with your wishes regarding
+      them in every way.
+
+      "It will not be worth your while writing to me here, as my
+      plans are uncertain. I will try to give you notice of my
+      arrival, but may reach you before my next letter.
+
+                           "Yours affectionately,
+
+                                           "HUGO TANCRED."
+
+Still as a statue sat Jan. From the garden came the cheerful chirruping
+of birds and constant, eager questioning of Earley by the children.
+Earley's slow Gloucestershire speech rumbled on in muffled _obbligato_
+to the higher, carrying, little voices.
+
+The whirr of a sewing-machine came from the morning-room, now the
+day-nursery, where Meg was busy with frocks for little Fay.
+
+In a distant pantry somebody was clinking teacups. Jan shivered, though
+the air from the open window was only fresh, not cold. At that moment
+she knew exactly how an animal feels when caught in a trap. Hugo
+Tancred's letter was the trap, and she was in it. With the exception of
+the lie about other letters--Jan was perfectly sure he had written no
+other letters--and the stereotyped phrases about shattered lamps and the
+wife who was "no more," the letter was one long menace--scarcely veiled.
+That sentence, "in so far as you make it possible for me to do so, I
+will fall in with your wishes regarding them in every way," simply meant
+that if Jan was to keep the children she must let Hugo make ducks and
+drakes of her money; and if he took her money, how could she do what she
+ought for the children?
+
+And he was at Port Said; only a week's journey.
+
+Why had she left that money in Bombay? Why had she not listened to
+Peter? Sometimes she had thought that Peter held rather a cynically low
+view of his fellow-creatures--some of his fellow-creatures. Surely no
+one could be all bad? Jan had hoped great things of adversity for Hugo
+Tancred. Peter indulged in no such pleasant illusions, and said so.
+"Schoolgirl sentimentality" Meg had called it, and so it was. "No doubt
+it will be possible to find some cheap preparatory school for Tony."
+
+Would he try to steal Tony?
+
+From the charitable mood that hopeth all things Jan suddenly veered to a
+belief in all things evil of her brother-in-law. At that moment she felt
+him capable of murdering the child and throwing his little body down a
+well, as they do in India.
+
+Again she shivered.
+
+What was she to do?
+
+So helpless, so unprotected; so absolutely at his mercy because she
+loved the children. "Never let him blackmail you," Peter had said.
+"Stand up to him always, and he'll probably crumple up."
+
+Suddenly, as though someone had opened shutters in a pitch-dark room,
+letting in the blessed light, Jan remembered there was also a letter
+from Peter.
+
+She crossed the hall to get it, though her legs shook under her and her
+knees were as water.
+
+She felt she couldn't get back to the window-seat, so she sat on the
+edge of the gate-table and opened the letter.
+
+A very short letter, only one side of a page.
+
+      "DEAR MISS ROSS,
+
+      "This is the last mail for a bit, for I come myself by the
+      next, the _Macedonia_. You may catch me at Aden, but
+      certainly a note will get me at Marseilles, if you are kind
+      enough to write. Tancred has been back in Bombay and gone
+      again in one of the smaller home-going boats. Where he got
+      the money to go I can't think, for from many sources lately
+      I've heard that his various ventures have been far from
+      prosperous, and no one will trust him with a rupee.
+
+      "So look out for blackmail, and be firm, mind.
+
+      "I go to my aunt in Artillery Mansions on arrival. When may
+      I run down to see you all?
+
+                         "Yours always sincerely,
+
+                                          "PETER LEDGARD."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII
+
+"THOUGH AN HOST SHOULD ENCAMP AGAINST ME"
+
+
+The flap of the gate-leg table creaked under Jan's weight, but she dug
+her heels into the rug and balanced, for she felt incapable of moving.
+
+Peter was coming home; if the worst came to the worst he would deal with
+Hugo, and a respite would be gained. But Peter would go out to India
+again and Hugo would not. The whole miserable business would be
+repeated--and how could she continue to worry Peter with her affairs?
+What claim had she upon him? As though she were some stranger seeing it
+for the first time, Jan looked round the square, comfortable hall. She
+saw it with new eyes sharpened by apprehension; yet everything was
+solidly the same.
+
+The floor with its draught-board pattern of large, square, black and
+white stones; the old dark chairs; the high bookcases at each side of
+the hearth; the wide staircase with its spacious, windowed turning and
+shallow steps, so easily traversed by little feet; the whole steeped in
+that atmosphere of friendly comfort that kind old houses get and keep.
+
+Such a good place to be young in.
+
+Such a happy place, so safe and sheltered and pleasant.
+
+Outside the window a wren was calling to his mate with a note that
+sounded just like a faint kiss; such a tender little song.
+
+The swing door was opened noisily and Anne Chitt appeared bearing the
+nursery tea-tray, deposited it in the nursery, opened the front door,
+thumped on the gong and vanished again. Meg came out from the nursery
+with two pairs of small slippers in her hand: "Where are my children? I
+left little Fay with Earley while I finished the overalls; he's a most
+efficient under-nurse--I suppose you left Tony with him too. Such a lot
+of letters for you. Did you get your mail? I heard from both the boys.
+Ah, sensible Earley's taking them round to the back door. Where's
+William's duster? Hannah does make such a fuss about paw-marks." And
+Meg, too, vanished through the swing door.
+
+Slowly Jan dragged herself off the table, gathered up her unread
+letters, and went into the nursery. She felt as though she were
+dreadfully asleep and couldn't awake to realise the wholesome everyday
+world around her.
+
+Vaguely she stared round the room, the most charming room in Wren's End.
+Panelled in wood long since painted white, with two delightful rounded
+corner cupboards, it gave straight on to the wrens' sunk lawn from a big
+French window with steps, an anachronism added by Miss Janet Ross. Five
+years ago Anthony had brought a beautiful iron gate from Venice that
+fitted into the archway, cut through the yew hedge and leading to the
+drive. Jan had given this room to the children because in summer they
+could spend the whole day in its green-walled garden, quite safe and
+shut in from every possibility of mischief. A sun-dial was in the
+centre, and in one corner a fat stone cherub upheld a bath for the
+birds. Daffodils were in bloom on the banks, and one small single tulip
+of brilliant red. Jan went out and stood on the top step.
+
+Long immunity from menace of any kind had made all sorts of little birds
+extraordinarily bold and friendly. Even the usually shy and furtive
+golden-crested wrens fussed in and out under the yew hedge quite
+regardless of Jan.
+
+Through an open window overhead came the sound of cheerful high voices,
+and little Fay started to sing at the top of her strong treble:
+
+    Thlee mice went into a hole to spin,
+    Puss came by, and puss peeped in;
+    What are you doing, my littoo old men?
+    We're weaving coats for gentoomen.
+
+"Is that what I've been doing?" thought Jan. "Weaving coats of many
+colours out of happy dreams?" Were she and the children the mice, she
+wondered.
+
+Marauding cats had been kept away from Wren's End for over a hundred
+years. "The little wrens that build" had been safe enough. But what of
+these poor human nestlings?
+
+"Shall I come and help loo to wind up loo thleds?" sang little Fay. "Oh,
+no, Missis Pussy, you'd bite off our heads!" And Tony joined in with a
+shout: "Oh, no, Missis Pussy, you'd bite off our heads."
+
+The voices died away, the children were coming downstairs.
+
+Jan drank three cups of tea and crumbled one piece of bread and butter
+on her plate. The rest of the party were hungry and full of adventures.
+Before she joined Earley little Fay had been to the village with Meg to
+buy tape, and she had a great deal to say about this expedition. Meg saw
+that something was troubling Jan, and wondered if Mr. Ledgard had given
+her fresh news of Hugo. But Meg never asked questions or worried people.
+She chattered to the children, and immediately after tea carried them
+off for the usual washing of hands.
+
+Jan went out into the hall; the door was open and the sunny spring
+evening called to her. When she was miserable she always wanted to walk,
+and she walked now; swiftly down the drive she went and out along the
+road till she came to the church, which stood at the end of the village
+nearest to Wren's End.
+
+She turned into the churchyard, and up the broad pathway between the
+graves to the west door.
+
+Near the door was a square headstone marking the grave of Charles
+Considine Smith; and she paused beside it to read once more the somewhat
+strange inscription.
+
+Under his name and age, cut deep in the moss-grown stone, were the
+words: "_Though an host should encamp against me, my heart shall not
+fear._"
+
+Often before Jan had wondered what could have caused Tranquil, his wife,
+to choose so strenuous an epitaph. Tranquil, who had never stirred
+twenty miles from the place where she was born; whose very name, so far
+as they could gather, exemplified her life.
+
+What secret menace had threatened this "staid person," this prosperous
+shipper of sherry who, apparently, had spent the evening of his life in
+observing the habits of wrens.
+
+Why should his gentle wife have thus commemorated his fighting spirit?
+
+Be the reason what it might, Jan felt vaguely comforted. There was
+triumph as well as trust in the words. Whatever it was that had
+threatened him, he had stood up to it. His wife knew this and was proud.
+
+Jan tried the heavy oak door and it yielded, and from the soft mildness
+of the spring evening, so full of happy sounds of innocent life, she
+passed into the grey and sacred silence of the church.
+
+It was cold in the beautiful old fourteenth-century church, with that
+pervading smell of badly-burning wood that is so often found in country
+churches till all attempt at heating ceases for the summer. But nothing
+could mar the nobility of its austerely lovely architecture; the
+indefinable, exquisite grace that soothes and penetrates.
+
+She went and knelt in the Wren's End pew where Charles Considine Smith's
+vast prayer-book still stood on the book-board. And even as in the
+Bombay Cathedral she had prayed that strength might be given to her to
+walk in the Way, so now she prayed for courage and a quiet, steadfast
+mind.
+
+Her head was bowed and buried in her hands: "_My heart shall not
+fear_," she whispered; but she knew that it did fear, and fear
+grievously.
+
+The tense silence was broken by an odd, fitful, pattering sound; but
+Jan, absorbed in her petition for the courage she could not feel, heard
+nothing.
+
+Something clumsy, warm, and panting pushed against her, and she
+uncovered her face and looked down upon William trying to thrust his
+head under her arm and join in her devotions.
+
+And William became a misty blur, for her eyes filled with tears; he
+looked so anxious and foolish and kind with his tongue hanging out and
+his absurd, puzzled expression.
+
+He was puzzled. Part of the usual ritual had been omitted.
+
+She ought, by all known precedents, to have put her arm round his neck
+and have admonished him to "pray for his Master." But she did nothing of
+the kind, only patted him, with no sort of invitation to join in her
+orisons.
+
+William was sure something was wrong somewhere.
+
+Then Jan saw Tony sitting at the far end of the seat, hatless, coatless,
+in his indoor strap shoes; and he was regarding her with grave,
+understanding eyes.
+
+In a moment she was back in the present and vividly alive to the fact
+that here was chilly, delicate Tony out after tea, without a coat and
+sitting in an ice-cold church.
+
+She rose from her knees, much to William's satisfaction, who did not
+care for religious services in which he might not take an active part.
+He trotted out of the pew and Jan followed him, stooping to kiss Tony as
+she passed.
+
+"It's too cold for you here, dear," she whispered; "let us come out."
+
+She held out her hand and Tony took it, and together they passed down
+the aisle and into the warmer air outside.
+
+"How did you know I was here?" she asked, as they hurried into the road.
+
+"I saw you going down the drive from the bathroom window, and so I
+runned after you, and William came too."
+
+"But what made you come after me?"
+
+"Because I thought you looked frightened, and I didn't like it; you
+looked like Mummy did sometimes."
+
+No one who has seen fear stamped upon a woman's face ever forgets it.
+Tony had watched his aunt all tea-time, and this quite new expression
+troubled him. Mummy had always seemed to want him when she looked like
+that; perhaps Auntie Jan would want him too. The moment his hands were
+dried he had rushed past Meg and down the stairs with William in his
+wake. Meg had not tried to stop him, for she, too, realised that
+something worried Jan, and she knew that already there had arisen an
+almost unconscious _entente_ between these two. But she had no idea that
+he had gone out of doors. She dressed little Fay and took her out to the
+garden, thinking that Tony and Jan were probably in the nursery, and she
+was careful not to disturb them.
+
+"Are you cold, Tony?" Jan asked anxiously, walking so fast that Tony
+had almost to run to keep up with her.
+
+"No, not very; it's a nice coldness rather, don't you think?"
+
+"Tony, will you tell me--when Daddie was angry with you, were you never
+frightened?"
+
+Tony pulled at her hand to make her go more slowly. "Yes," he said, "I
+used to feel frightened inside, but I wouldn't let him know it, and
+then--it was funny--but quite sunn'ly I wasn't frightened any more. You
+try it."
+
+"You mean," Jan asked earnestly, "that if you don't let anyone else know
+you are frightened, you cease to be frightened?"
+
+"Something like that," Tony said; "it just happens."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII
+
+MEG AND CAPTAIN MIDDLETON
+
+
+Meg had worked hard and faithfully ever since Ayah left. Very soon after
+she took over the children entirely she discovered that, however naughty
+and tiresome they were in many respects, they were quick-witted and
+easily interested. And she decided there and then that to keep them good
+she must keep them well amused, and it acted like a charm.
+
+She had the somewhat rare power of surrounding quite ordinary everyday
+proceedings with a halo of romance, so that the children's day developed
+into a series of entrancing adventures.
+
+With Meg, enthusiastic make-believe had never wholly given place to
+common sense. Throughout the long, hard days of her childhood and early
+apprenticeship to a rather unkindly world she had pretended joyously,
+and invented for herself all sorts of imaginary pleasures to take the
+place of those tangible ones denied to her. She had kept the width and
+wistfulness of the child's horizon with a good deal of the child's
+finality and love of detail; so that she was as responsive to the drama
+of common things as the children themselves.
+
+Thus it came about that the daily donning of the uniform was in very
+truth symbolic and inspiring; and once the muslin cap was adjusted, she
+felt herself magically surrounded by the atmosphere most conducive to
+the production of the Perfect Nurse.
+
+For Tony and little Fay getting up and going to bed resolved themselves
+into feats of delicious dexterity that custom could not stale. The
+underneaths of tables were caves and dungeons, chairs became chariots at
+will, and every night little Fay waved a diminutive pocket-handkerchief
+to Tony from the deck of an ocean-going P. and O.
+
+The daily walks, especially since they came to Wren's End, were filled
+with hopeful possibilities. And to hunt for eggs with Mrs. Earley, or
+gather vegetables with her son, partook of the nature of a high and
+solemn quest. It was here Meg showed real genius. She drew all the
+household into her net of interest. The children poked their busy
+fingers into everybody's pies, and even stern Hannah was compelled,
+quite unconsciously, to contribute her share in the opulent happiness of
+their little world.
+
+But it took it out of Meg.
+
+For weeks she had been on the alert to prevent storms and tempests. Now
+that the children's barometer seemed at "set fair" she suddenly felt
+very tired.
+
+Jan had been watching her, and on that particular Sunday, had she been
+able to catch Meg before she got up, Jan would have dressed the children
+and kept her in bed. But Meg was too nimble for her, washed and dressed
+her charges, and appeared at breakfast looking a "wispy wraith."
+
+She had slept badly; a habit formed in her under-nourished youth which
+she found hard to break; and she had, in consequence, been sitting up in
+bed at five in the morning to make buttonholes in garden smocks for
+Tony.
+
+This would have enraged Jan had she but known it. But Meg, frank and
+honest as the day in most things, was, at times, curiously secretive;
+and so far had entirely eluded Jan's vigilance. By the time Anne Chitt
+came with the awakening tea there wasn't a vestige of smock, needles, or
+cotton to be seen, and so far lynx-eyed little Fay had never awoke in
+time to catch her at it.
+
+This morning, however, Jan exerted her authority. She slung the hammock
+between two trees in the sunniest part of the garden; she wrapped Meg in
+her own fur coat, which was far too big for Meg; covered her with a
+particularly soft, warm rug, gave her a book, a sun-umbrella, and her
+cigarette case; and forbade her to move till lunch-time unless it
+rained.
+
+Then she took the two children and William into Squire Walcote's woods
+for the morning and Meg fell fast asleep.
+
+Warm with the double glow that came from being wrapped in Jan's coat
+because Jan loved her; lulled by the songs of birds and a soft, shy wind
+that ruffled the short hair about her forehead, little Meg was supremely
+happy. To be tired, to be made to rest, to be kissed and tucked in and
+sternly commanded to stay where she was till she was fetched--all this,
+so commonplace to cherished, cared-for folk, seemed quite wonderful to
+Meg, and she snuggled down among the cushions in blissful content.
+
+Meanwhile, on that same Sunday morning, Captain Middleton, at Amber
+Guiting Manor, was trying to screw his courage up to the announcement
+that he did not intend to accompany his aunt and uncle to church. Lady
+Mary Walcote was his mother's only sister, and Mrs. Walcote, wife of
+Jan's tenant, was one of his father's, so that he spoke quite truly when
+he told Meg he had "stacks of relations down at Amber Guiting."
+
+Colonel Walcote was much better off than his elder brother, the squire
+of Amber Guiting, for he benefited by the Middleton money.
+
+Miles Middleton's father was the originator of "Middleton's Made
+Starch," which was used everywhere and was supposed to be superior to
+all other starches. Why "Made" scoffers could never understand, for it
+required precisely the same treatment as other starches. But the British
+Public believed in it, the British Public also bought it in large
+quantities, and George Middleton, son of Mutton-Pie Middleton, a
+well-to-do confectioner in Doncaster, became an exceedingly rich man. He
+did not marry till he was forty, and then he married "family," for Lady
+Agnes Keills, younger daughter of Lord Glencarse, had a long pedigree
+and no dower at all. She was a good wife to him, gentle, upright, and
+always affectionate. She adored their only child, Miles, and died quite
+suddenly from heart failure, just after that cheerful youth had joined
+at Woolwich. George Middleton died some three years later, leaving his
+money absolutely to his son, who came of age at twenty-five. And, so
+far, Miles had justified his father's faith in him, for he had never
+done anything very foolish, and a certain strain of Yorkshire shrewdness
+prevented him from committing any wild extravagance.
+
+He was generous, kindly, and keen on his profession, and he had reached
+the age of thirty-two without ever having felt any overwhelming desire
+to marry; though it was pretty well known that considerable efforts to
+marry him suitably had been made by both mothers and daughters.
+
+The beautiful and level-headed young ladies of musical comedy had failed
+to land this considerable fish, angled they never so skilfully; though
+he frankly enjoyed their amusing society and was quite liberal, though
+not lavish, in the way of presents.
+
+Young women of his own rank were pleasant to him, their mothers cordial,
+and no difficulty was ever put in the way of his enjoying their society.
+But he was not very susceptible. Deep in his heart, in some dim,
+unacknowledged corner, there lay a humble, homely desire that he might
+_feel_ a great deal more strongly than he had felt yet, when the time
+and the woman came to him.
+
+Never, until Meg smiled at him when he offered to carry little Fay up
+that long staircase, had the thought of a girl thoroughly obsessed him;
+and it is possible that even after their meetings in Kensington Gardens
+her image might gradually have faded from his mind, had it not occurred
+to Mrs. Trent to interfere.
+
+He had seen a good deal of the Trents while hunting with the Pytchley
+two winters ago. Lotty was a fearless rider and what men called "a real
+good sort." At one time it had sometimes crossed Captain Middleton's
+mind that Lotty wouldn't make half a bad wife for a Horse Gunner, but
+somehow it had always stopped at the idea, and when he didn't see Lotty
+he never thought about her at all.
+
+Now that he no longer saw Meg he thought about her all day and far into
+the night. His sensations were so new, so disturbing and unpleasant, his
+life was so disorganised and upset, that he asked himself in varying
+degrees of ever-accumulating irritation: "What the deuce was the
+matter?"
+
+Then Mrs. Trent asked him to luncheon.
+
+She was staying with her daughters at the Kensington Palace Hotel, and
+they had a suite of rooms. Lotty and her sister flew away before coffee
+was served, as they were going to a _matinee_, and Miles was left
+_tete-a-tete_ with Mrs. Trent.
+
+She was most motherly and kind.
+
+Just as he was wondering whether he might now decently take leave of
+her, she said: "Captain Middleton, I'm going to take a great liberty and
+venture to say something to you that perhaps you will resent ... but I
+feel I must do it because your mother was such a dear friend of mine."
+
+This was a piece of information for Miles, who knew perfectly well that
+Lady Agnes Middleton's acquaintance with Mrs. Trent had been of the
+slightest. However, he bowed and looked expectant.
+
+"I saw you the other day walking with Miss Morton in Kensington Gardens;
+apparently she is now in charge of somebody's children. May I ask if you
+have known her long?"
+
+Mrs. Trent looked searchingly at Miles, and there was an inflection on
+the "long" that he felt was in some way insulting to Meg, and he
+stiffened all over.
+
+"Before I answer that question, Mrs. Trent, may I ask why you should
+want to know?"
+
+"My dear boy, I see perfectly well that it must seem impertinent
+curiosity on my part. But I assure you my motive for asking is quite
+justifiable. Will you try not to feel irritated and believe that what I
+am doing, I am doing for the best?"
+
+"I have not known Miss Morton very long; why?"
+
+"Do you know the people she is living with at present?"
+
+Again that curious inflection on the "present."
+
+"Oh, yes, and so do my people; they think all the world of her."
+
+"Of Miss Morton?" Shocked astonishment was in Mrs. Trent's voice.
+
+"I was not speaking of Miss Morton just then, but of the lady she is
+with. I've no doubt, though," said Miles stoutly, "they'd think just
+the same of Miss Morton if they knew her. They may know her, too; it's
+just a chance we've never discussed her."
+
+"It is very difficult and painful for me to say what I have got to say
+... but if Miss Morton is in charge of the children of a friend of your
+family, I think you ought to know she is not a suitable person to be
+anything of the kind."
+
+"I say!" Miles exclaimed, "that's a pretty stiff thing to say about any
+girl; a dangerous thing to say; especially about one who seems to need
+to earn her own living."
+
+"I know it is; I hate to say it ... but it seemed to me the other day--I
+hope I was mistaken--that you were rather ... attracted, and knowing
+what I do I felt I must speak, must warn you."
+
+Miles got up. He seemed to tower above the table and dwarf the whole
+room. "I'd rather not hear any more, Mrs. Trent, please. It seems too
+beastly mean somehow for me to sit here and listen to scandal about a
+poor little unprotected girl who works hard and faithfully--mind you,
+I've seen her with those children, and she's perfectly wonderful. Don't
+you see yourself how I can't _do_ it?"
+
+Mrs. Trent sat on where she was and smiled at Miles, slowly shaking her
+head. "Sit down, my dear boy. Your feelings do you credit; but we
+mustn't be sentimental, and facts are facts. I have every reason to know
+what I'm talking about, for some years ago Miss Morton was in my
+service."
+
+Miles did not sit down. He stood where he was, glowering down at Mrs.
+Trent.
+
+"That doesn't brand her, does it?" he asked.
+
+Still smiling maternally at him, Mrs. Trent continued: "She left my
+service when she ran away with Mr. Walter Brooke--you know him, I think?
+Disgraceful though it was, I must say this of him, that he never made
+any concealment of the fact that he was a married man. She did it with
+her eyes open."
+
+"If," Miles growled, "all this happened 'some years ago' she must have
+been about twelve at the time, and Brooke ought to have been hounded out
+of society long ago."
+
+"I needn't say that _we_ have cut him ever since. She was, I believe,
+about nineteen at the time. She did not remain with him, but you can
+understand that, naturally, I don't want _you_ to get entangled with a
+girl of that sort."
+
+Miles picked up his hat and stick. "I wish you hadn't told me," he
+groaned. "I don't think a bit less highly of her, but you've made _me_
+feel such a low-down brute, I can't bear it. Good-bye--I've no doubt you
+did it for the best ... but----" And Miles fairly ran from the room.
+
+Mrs. Trent drummed with her fingers on the table and looked thoughtful.
+"It was quite time somebody interfered," she reflected. And then she
+remembered with annoyance that she had not found out the name of Meg's
+employer.
+
+Miles strode through Kensington Gore and past Knightsbridge, when he
+turned down Sloane Street till he came to a fencing school he
+frequented. Here he went in and had a strenuous half-hour with the
+instructor, but nothing served to restore his peace of mind. He was
+angry and hurt and horribly worried. If it was true, if the whole
+miserable story was true, then he knew that something had been taken
+from him. Something he had cherished in that dim, secret corner of his
+heart. Its truth or untruth did not affect his feeling for Meg. But if
+it were true, then he had irretrievably lost something intangible, yet
+precious. Young men like Miles never mention ideals, but that's not to
+say that in some very hidden place they don't exist, like buried
+treasure.
+
+All the shrewd Yorkshire strain in him shouted that he must set this
+doubt at rest. That whatever was to be his action in the future he must
+know and face the truth. All the delicacy, the fine feeling, the
+sensitiveness he got from his mother, made him loathe any investigation
+of the kind, and his racial instincts battled together and made him very
+miserable indeed.
+
+When he left the fencing school, he turned into Hyde Park. The Row was
+beginning to fill, and suddenly he came upon his second cousin, Lady
+Penelope Pottinger, sitting all alone on a green chair with another
+empty one beside it. Miles dropped into the empty chair. He liked Lady
+Pen. She was always downright and sometimes very amusing. Moreover she
+took an intelligent interest in dogs, and knew Amber Guiting and its
+inhabitants. So Miles dexterously led the conversation round to Jan and
+Wren's End.
+
+Lady Pen was looking very beautiful that afternoon. She wore a
+broad-leaved hat which did not wholly conceal her glorious hair. Hair
+the same colour as certain short feathery rings that framed a pale,
+pathetic little face that haunted him.
+
+"Talking of Amber Guiting," he said, "did you ever come across a Miss
+Morton down there? A friend of Miss Ross."
+
+Lady Pen turned and looked hard at him. "Oh dear, yes; she's rather a
+pal of mine. I knew her long before I met her at the Ross's. Why, I knew
+her when she was companion at the Trents, poor little devil."
+
+"Did she have a bad time there? Weren't they nice to her?"
+
+"At first they were nice enough, but afterwards it was rotten. Clever
+little thing she is, but poor as a rat. What do you know about her?"
+
+Again Lady Pen looked hard at Miles. She was wondering whether Meg had
+ever given away the reason for that short hair of hers.
+
+"Oh, I've met her just casually, you know, with Miss Ross. She strikes
+me as a ... rather unusual sort of girl."
+
+"Ever mention me?"
+
+"No, never that I can remember. I haven't seen much of her, you know."
+
+"Well, my son, the less you see of her the better, for her, I should
+say. She's a clever, industrious, good little thing, but she's not in
+your row. After all, these workin' girls have their feelin's."
+
+"I don't fancy Miss Morton is at all the susceptible idiot you appear
+to think her. It's other people's feelings I should be afraid of, not
+hers."
+
+"Oh, I grant you she's attractive enough to some folks. Artists, for
+instance, rave over her. At least, Anthony Ross did. Queer chap, that;
+would never paint me. Now can you understand any man in his senses
+refusin' to paint me?"
+
+"It seems odd, certainly."
+
+"He painted her, for nothin' of course, over an' over again ... just
+because he liked doin' it. Odd chap he was, but very takin'. You
+couldn't dislike him, even when he refused to paint you. Awful swank
+though, wasn't it?"
+
+"Were his pictures of Miss Morton--sold?"
+
+"Some were, I believe; but Janet Ross has got a lot of 'em down at
+Wren's End. She always puts away most of her father's paintin's when she
+lets the house. But you take my advice, Miley, my son: you keep clear of
+that little girl."
+
+This was on Thursday, and, of course, after two warnings in one
+afternoon, Miles went down to Amber Guiting on Saturday night.
+
+"Aunt Mary, it's such a lovely morning, should you mind very much if I
+go for a stroll in the woods--or slack about in the fresh air, instead
+of going to church?"
+
+At the word "stroll" he had seen an interested expression lighten up
+Squire Walcote's face, and the last thing he wanted was his uncle's
+society for the whole morning.
+
+"I don't feel up to much exercise," Miles went on, trying to look
+exhausted and failing egregiously. "I've had rather a hard week in town.
+I'll give the vicar a turn in the evening, I will truly."
+
+Lady Mary smiled indulgently on this large young man, who certainly
+looked far from delicate. But only a hard-hearted woman could have
+pointed this out at such a moment, and where her nephew was concerned
+Lady Mary's heart was all kindly affection. So she let him off church.
+
+Miles carried out a pile of books to a seat in the garden and appeared
+to be settled down to a studious morning. He waved a languid hand to his
+aunt and uncle as they started for church, and the moment they were out
+of sight laid down his book and clasped his hands behind his head.
+
+The vicar of Amber Guiting was a family man and merciful. The school
+children all creaked and pattered out of church after morning prayer,
+and any other small people in the congregation were encouraged to do
+likewise, the well-filled vicarage pew setting the example. Therefore,
+Miles reckoned, that even supposing Miss Morton took the little boy to
+church (he couldn't conceive of anyone having the temerity to escort
+little Fay thither), they would come out in about three-quarters of an
+hour after the bell stopped. But he had no intention of waiting for
+that. The moment the bell ceased he--unaccompanied by any of the dogs
+grouped about him at that moment--was going to investigate the Wren's
+End garden. He knew every corner of it, and he intended to unearth Meg
+and the children if they were to be found.
+
+Besides, he ardently desired to see William.
+
+William was a lawful pretext. No one could see anything odd in his
+calling at Wren's End to see William. It was a perfectly natural thing
+to do.
+
+Confound Mrs. Trent.
+
+Confound Pen, what did she want to interfere for?
+
+Confound that bell. Would it never stop?
+
+Yes it had. No it hadn't. Yes ... it had.
+
+Give a few more minutes for laggards, and then----
+
+Three melancholy and disappointed dogs were left in the Manor Garden,
+while Miles swung down the drive, past the church, and into the road
+that led to Wren's End.
+
+What a morning it was!
+
+The whole world seemed to have put on its Sunday frock. There had been
+rain in the night, and the air was full of the delicious fresh-washed
+smell of spring herbage. Wren's End seemed wonderfully quiet and
+deserted as Miles turned into the drive. As he neared the house he
+paused and listened, but there was no sound of high little voices
+anywhere.
+
+Were they at church, then?
+
+They couldn't be indoors on such a beautiful day.
+
+Miles whistled softly, knowing that if William were anywhere within
+hearing, that would bring him at the double.
+
+But no joyfully galumphing William appeared to welcome him.
+
+He had no intention of ringing to inquire. No, he'd take a good look
+round first, before he went back to hang about outside the church.
+
+It was pleasant in the Wren's End garden.
+
+Presently he went down the broad central path of the walled garden, with
+borders of flowers and beds of vegetables. Half-way down, in the
+sunniest, warmest place, he came upon a hammock slung between an
+apple-tree not quite out and a pear-tree that was nearly over, and a
+voice from the hammock called sleepily: "Is that you, Earley? I wish
+you'd pick up my cigarette case for me; it's fallen into the lavender
+bush just below."
+
+"Yes, Miss," a voice answered that was certainly not Earley's.
+
+Meg leaned out of the hammock to look behind her.
+
+"Hullo!" she said. "Why are you not in church? I can't get up because
+I'm a prisoner on _parole_. Short of a thunderstorm nothing is to move
+me from this hammock till Miss Ross comes back."
+
+Miles stood in the pathway looking down at the muffled figure in the
+hammock. There was little to be seen of Meg save her rumpled, hatless
+head. She was much too economical of her precious caps to waste one in a
+hammock. She had slept for nearly two hours, then Hannah roused her with
+a cup of soup. She was drowsy and warm and comfortable, and her usually
+pale cheeks were almost as pink as the apple-blossom buds above her
+head.
+
+"Do you want to sleep? Or may I stop and talk to you a bit?" Miles
+asked, when he had found the somewhat battered cigarette case and
+restored it to her.
+
+"As I'm very plainly off duty, I suppose you may stay and talk--if I
+fall asleep in the middle you must not be offended. You'll find plenty
+of chairs in the tool house."
+
+When Miles returned Meg had lit her cigarette, and he begged a light
+from her.
+
+What little hands she had! How fine-grained and delicate her skin!
+
+Again he felt that queer lump in his throat at the absurd, sweet pathos
+of her.
+
+He placed his chair where he had her full in view, not too near, yet
+comfortably so for conversation. Jan had swung the hammock very high,
+and Meg looked down at Miles over the edge.
+
+"It is unusual," she said, "to find a competent nurse spending her
+morning in this fashion, but if you know Miss Ross at all, you will
+already have realised that under her placid exterior she has a will of
+iron."
+
+"I shouldn't say _you_ were lacking in determination."
+
+"Oh, I'm nothing to Jan. _She_ exerts physical force. Look at me perched
+up here! How can I get down without a bad fall, swathed like a mummy in
+wraps; while my employer does my work?"
+
+"But you don't want to get down. You look awfully comfortable."
+
+"I am awfully comfortable--but it's most ... unprofessional--please
+don't tell anybody else."
+
+Meg closed her eyes, looking rather like a sleepy kitten, and Miles
+watched her in silence with a pain at his heart. Something kept saying
+over and over again: "Six years ago that girl there ran off with Walter
+Brooke. Six years ago that apparently level-headed, sensible little
+person was dazzled by the pinchbeck graces of that epicure in
+sensations." Miles fully granted his charm, his gentle melancholy, his
+caressing manner; but with it all Miles felt that he was so plainly "a
+wrong-'un," so clearly second-rate and untrustworthy--and a nice girl
+ought to recognise these things intuitively.
+
+Miles looked very sad and grave, and Meg, suddenly opening her eyes,
+found him regarding her with this incomprehensible expression.
+
+"You are not exactly talkative," she said.
+
+"I thought, perhaps, you wanted to rest, and would rather not talk.
+Maybe I'm a bit of a bore, and you'd rather I went away?"
+
+"You have not yet asked after William."
+
+"I hoped to find William, but he's nowhere to be seen."
+
+"He's with Jan and the children. I think"--here Meg lifted her curly
+head over the edge of the hammock--"he is the very darlingest animal in
+the world. I love William."
+
+"You do! I knew you would."
+
+"I do. He's so faithful and kind and understanding."
+
+"Has he been quite good?"
+
+"Well ... once or twice he may have been a little--destructive--but you
+expect that with children."
+
+"I hope you punish him."
+
+"Jan does. Jan has a most effectual slap, but there's always a dreadful
+disturbance with the children on these occasions. Little Fay roars the
+house down when William has to be chastised."
+
+"What has he done?"
+
+"I'm not going to tell tales of William."
+
+Miles and Meg smiled at one another, and Walter Brooke faded from his
+mind.
+
+"Perhaps," he said, and paused, "you will by and by allow to William's
+late master a small portion of that regard?"
+
+"If William's master on further acquaintance proves half as loyal and
+trustworthy as William--I couldn't help it."
+
+"I wonder what you mean exactly by loyal and trustworthy?"
+
+"They're not very elastic terms, are they?"
+
+"Don't you think they mean rather the same thing?"
+
+"Not a bit," Meg cried eagerly; "a person might be ever so trustworthy
+and yet not loyal. I take it that trustworthy and honest in tangible
+things are much the same. Loyalty is something intangible, and often
+means belief in people when everything seems against them. It's a much
+rarer quality than to be trustworthy. William would stick to one if one
+hadn't a crust, just because he liked to be there to make things a bit
+less wretched."
+
+Miles smoked in silence for a minute, and again Meg closed her eyes.
+
+"By the way," he said presently, "I didn't know you and my cousin Pen
+were friends. I met her in the Park the day before yesterday. Her hair's
+rather the same colour as yours--handsome woman, isn't she?"
+
+Meg opened her eyes and turned crimson. Had the outspoken Lady Pen said
+anything about her hair, she wondered.
+
+Miles, noting the sudden blush, put it down to Lady Pen's knowledge of
+what had happened at the Trents, and the miserable feelings of doubt and
+apprehension came surging back.
+
+"She's quite lovely," said Meg.
+
+"A bit too much on the big side, don't you think?"
+
+"I admire big women."
+
+Silence fell again. Meg pulled the rug up under her chin.
+
+Surely it was not quite so warm as a few minutes ago.
+
+Miles stood up. "I have a guilty feeling that Miss Ross will strongly
+disapprove of my disturbing you like this. If you will tell me which way
+they have gone I will go and meet them."
+
+"They've gone to your uncle's woods, and I think they must be on their
+way home by now. If you call William he'll answer."
+
+"I won't say good-bye," said Miles, "because I shall come back with
+them."
+
+"I shall be on duty then," said Meg. "Good-bye."
+
+She turned her face from him and nestled down among her cushions. For a
+full minute he stood staring at the back of her head, with its crushed
+and tumbled tangle of short curls.
+
+Then quite silently he took his way out of the Wren's End garden.
+
+Meg shut her eyes very tight. Was it the light that made them smart so?
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX
+
+THE YOUNG IDEA
+
+
+Squire Walcote had given the Wren's End family the run of his woods,
+and, what was even more precious, permission to use the river-path
+through his grounds. Lady Mary, who had no children of her own, was
+immensely interested in Tony and little Fay, and would give Jan more
+advice as to their management in an hour than the vicar's wife ever
+offered during the whole of their acquaintance. But then _she_ had a
+family of eight.
+
+But the first time Tony went to the river Jan took him alone; and not to
+the near water in Squire Walcote's grounds, but to the old bridge that
+crossed the Amber some way out of the village. It was the typical
+Cotswold bridge, with low parapets that make such a comfortable seat for
+meditative villagers. Just before they reached it she loosed Tony's
+hand, and held her breath to see what he would do. Would he run straight
+across to get to the other side, or would he look over?
+
+Yes. He went straight to the low wall; stopped, looked over, leaned
+over, and stared and stared.
+
+Jan gave a sigh of relief.
+
+The water of the Amber just there is deep and clear, an infinite thing
+for a child to look down into; but it was not of that Jan was thinking.
+
+Hugo was no fisherman. Water had no attraction for him, save as a
+pleasant means of taking exercise. He was a fair oar; but for a stream
+that wouldn't float a boat he cared nothing at all.
+
+Charles Considine Smith had angled diligently. In fact, he wrote almost
+as much about the habits of trout as about wrens. James Ross, the
+gallant who carried off the second Tranquil, had been fishing at Amber
+Guiting when he first saw her. Anthony's father fished and so did
+Anthony; and Jan, herself, could throw a fly quite prettily. Yet, your
+true fisherman is born, not made; it is not a question of environment,
+but it is, very often, one of heredity; for the tendency comes out when,
+apparently, every adverse circumstance has combined to crush it.
+
+And no mortal who cares for or is going to care for fishing can ever
+cross a bridge without stopping to look down into the water.
+
+"There's a fish swimming down there," Tony whispered (was it instinct
+made him whisper? Jan wondered), "brown and speckledy, rather like the
+thrushes in the garden."
+
+Jan clutched nervously at the little coat while Tony hung over so far
+that only his toes were on the ground. She had brought a bit of bread in
+her pocket, and let him throw bits to the greedy, wily old trout who had
+defied a hundred skilful rods. On that first day old Amber whispered her
+secret to Tony and secured another slave.
+
+For Jan it was only another proof that Tony possessed a sterling
+character. Since her sister's disastrous marriage she had come to look
+upon a taste for fishing as more or less of a moral safeguard. She had
+often reflected that if only Fay had not been so lukewarm with regard to
+the gentle craft--and so bored in a heavenly place where, if it did rain
+for twenty-three of the twenty-four hours, even a second-rate rod might
+land fourteen or fifteen pounds of good sea-trout in an afternoon--she
+could never have fallen in love with Hugo Tancred, who was equally
+without enthusiasm and equally bored till he met Fay. Jan was ready
+enough now to blame herself for her absorption at this time, and would
+remember guiltily the relief with which she and her father greeted Fay's
+sudden willingness to remain a week longer in a place she previously had
+declared to be absolutely unendurable.
+
+The first time Tony's sister went to Amber Bridge Meg took them both.
+Little Fay descended from her pram just before they reached it,
+declaring it was a "nice dly place to walk." She ran on a little ahead,
+and before Meg realised what she was doing, she had scrambled up on to
+the top of the low wall and run briskly along it till her progress was
+stopped by a man who was leaning over immersed in thought. He nearly
+fell in himself, when a clear little voice inquired, "Do loo mind if I
+climb over loo?"
+
+It was Farmer Burgess, and he clasped the tripping lady of the white
+woolly gaiters in a pair of strong arms, and lifted her down just as the
+terrified Meg reached them.
+
+"Law, Missie!" gasped Mr. Burgess, "you mustn't do the like o' that
+there. It's downright fool'ardy."
+
+"Downlight foolardy," echoed little Fay. "And what nelse?"
+
+According to Mr. Burgess it was dangerous and a great many other things
+as well, but he lost his heart to her in that moment, and she could
+twist him round her little finger ever after.
+
+To be told that a thing was dangerous was to add to its attractions. She
+was absolutely without fear, and could climb like a kitten. She hadn't
+been at Wren's End a week before she was discovered half-way up the
+staircase on the outside of the banisters. And when she had been caught
+and lifted over by a white-faced aunt, explained that it was "muts the
+most instasting way of going up tairs."
+
+When asked how she expected to get to the other side at the top, she
+giggled derisively and said "ovel."
+
+Jan seriously considered a barbed-wire entanglement for the outside edge
+of her staircase after that.
+
+While Meg rested in the hammock Jan spent a strenuous morning in Guiting
+Woods with the children and William. Late windflowers were still in
+bloom, and early bluebells made lovely atmospheric patches under the
+trees, just as though a bit of the sky had fallen, as in the oft-told
+tale of "Cockie Lockie." There were primroses, too, and white violets,
+so that there were many little bunches with exceedingly short stalks to
+be arranged and tied up with the worsted provident Auntie Jan had
+brought with her; finally they all sat down on a rug lined with
+mackintosh, and little Fay demanded "Clipture."
+
+"Clipture" was her form of "Scripture," which Auntie Jan "told" every
+morning after breakfast to the children. Jan was a satisfactory
+narrator, for the form of her stories never varied. The Bible stories
+she told in the actual Bible words, and all children appreciate their
+dramatic simplicity and directness.
+
+That morning Joseph and his early adventures and the baby Moses were the
+favourites, and when these had been followed by "The Three Bears" and
+"Cock Robin," it was time to collect the bouquets and go home. And on
+the way home they met Captain Middleton. William spied him afar off, and
+dashed towards him with joyful, deep-toned barks. He was delighted to
+see William, said he had grown and was in the pink of condition; and
+then announced that he had already been to Wren's End and had seen Miss
+Morton. There was something in the tone of this avowal that made Jan
+think. It was shy, it was proud, it seemed to challenge Jan to find any
+fault in his having done so, and it was supremely self-conscious. He
+walked back with them to the Wren's End gate, and then came a moment of
+trial for William.
+
+He wanted to go with his master.
+
+He wanted to stay with the children.
+
+Captain Middleton settled it by shaking each offered paw and saying very
+seriously: "You must stay and take care of the ladies, William. I trust
+you." William looked wistfully after the tall figure that went down the
+road with the queer, light, jumpetty tread of all men who ride much.
+
+Then he trotted after Jan and the children and was exuberantly glad to
+see Meg again.
+
+She declared herself quite rested; heard that they had seen Captain
+Middleton, and met unmoved the statement that he was coming to tea.
+
+But she didn't look nearly so well rested as Jan had hoped she would.
+
+After the children's dinner Meg went on duty, and Jan saw no more of the
+nursery party till later in the afternoon. The creaking wheels of two
+small wheelbarrows made Jan look up from the letters she was writing at
+the knee-hole table that stood in the nursery window, and she beheld
+little Fay and Tony, followed by Meg knitting busily, as they came
+through the yew archway on to the lawn.
+
+Meg subsided into one of the white seats, but the children processed
+solemnly round, pausing under Jan's window.
+
+"I know lots an' lots of Clipture," her niece's voice proclaimed proudly
+as she sat down heavily in her wheelbarrow on the top of some garden
+produce she had collected.
+
+"How much do you know?" Tony asked sceptically.
+
+"Oh, lots an' lots, all about poor little Jophez in the bullushes, and
+his instasting dleams."
+
+"Twasn't Jophez," Tony corrected. "It was Mophez in the bulrushes, and
+he didn't have no dreams. That was Jophez."
+
+"How d'you know," Fay persisted, "that poor little Mophez had no dleams?
+Why _shouldn't_ he have dleams same as Jophez?"
+
+"It doesn't say so."
+
+"It doesn't say he _didn't_ have dleams. He _had_ dleams, I tell you; I
+know he had. Muts nicer dleams van Jophez."
+
+"Let's ask Meg; she'll know."
+
+Jan gave a sigh of relief. The children had not noticed her, and Meg had
+a fertile mind.
+
+The wheelbarrows were trundled across the lawn and paused in front of
+Meg, while a lively duet demanded simultaneously:
+
+  {"_Did_ little Mophez have dleams?"
+  {"_Didn't_ deah littoo Mophez have dleams?"
+
+When Meg had disentangled the questions and each child sat down in a
+wheelbarrow at her feet, she remarked judicially: "Well, there's nothing
+said about little Moses' dreams, certainly; but I should think it's
+quite likely the poor baby did have dreams."
+
+"What sort of dleams? Nicer van sheaves and sings, wasn't they?"
+
+"I should think," Meg said thoughtfully, "that he dreamed he must cry
+very quietly lest the Egyptians should hear him."
+
+"Deah littoo Mophez ... and what nelse?"
+
+Meg was tempted and fell. It was very easy for her to invent "dleams"
+for "deah littoo Mophez" lying in his bulrush ark among the flags at the
+river's edge. And, wholly regardless of geography, she transported him
+to the Amber, where the flags were almost in bloom at that moment, such
+local colour adding much to the realism of her stories.
+
+Presently William grew restless. He ran to Anthony's Venetian gate in
+the yew hedge and squealed (William never whined) to get out. Tony let
+him out, and he fled down the drive to meet his master, who had come a
+good half-hour too soon for tea.
+
+Jan continued to try and finish her letters while Captain Middleton,
+coatless, on all-fours, enacted an elephant which the children rode in
+turn. When he had completely ruined the knees of his trousers he arose
+and declared it was time to play "Here we go round the mulberry-bush,"
+and it so happened that once or twice he played it hand-in-hand with
+Meg.
+
+Jan left her letters and went out.
+
+The situation puzzled her. She feared for Meg's peace of mind, for
+Captain Middleton was undoubtedly attractive; and then she found herself
+fearing for his.
+
+After tea and more games with the children Captain Middleton escorted
+his hostess to church, where he joined his aunt in the Manor seat.
+
+During church Jan found herself wondering uneasily:
+
+"Was everybody going to fall in love with Meg?"
+
+"Would Peter?"
+
+"What a disagreeable idea!"
+
+And yet, why should it be?
+
+Resolutely she told herself that Peter was at perfect liberty to fall
+in love with Meg if he liked, and set herself to listen intelligently to
+the Vicar's sermon.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Meg started to put her children to bed, only to find that her fertility
+of imagination in the afternoon was to prove her undoing in the evening;
+for her memory was by no means as reliable as her powers of invention.
+
+Little Fay urgently demanded the whole cycle of little Mophez' dleams
+over again. And for the life of her Meg couldn't remember them either in
+their proper substance or sequence--and this in spite of the most
+persistent prompting, and she failed utterly to reproduce the
+entertainment of the afternoon. Both children were disappointed, but
+little Fay, accustomed as she was to Auntie Jan's undeviating method of
+narrating "Clipture," was angry as well. She fell into a passion of rage
+and nearly screamed the house down. Since the night of Ayah's departure
+there had not been such a scene.
+
+Poor Meg vowed (though she knew she would break her vow the very first
+time she was tempted) that never again would she tamper with Holy Writ,
+and for some weeks she coldly avoided both Jophez and Mophez as topics
+of conversation.
+
+Meg could never resist playing at things, and what "Clipture" the
+children learned from Jan in the morning they insisted on enacting with
+Meg later in the day.
+
+Sometimes she was seized with misgiving as to the propriety of these
+representations, but dismissed her doubts as cowardly.
+
+"After all," she explained to Jan, "we only play the very human bits. I
+never let them pretend to be anybody divine ... and you know the
+people--in the Old Testament, anyway--were most of them extremely human,
+not to say disreputable at times."
+
+It is possible that "Clipture's" supreme attraction for the children was
+that it conveyed the atmosphere of the familiar East. The New Testament
+was more difficult to play at, but, being equally dramatic, the children
+couldn't see it.
+
+"Can't we do one teeny miracle?" Tony would beseech, but Meg was firm;
+she would have nothing to do with either miracles nor yet with angels.
+Little Fay ardently desired to be an angel, but Meg wouldn't have it at
+any price.
+
+"You're not in the least _like_ an angel, you know," she said severely.
+
+"What for?"
+
+"Because angels are _perfectly_ good."
+
+"I could _pletend_ to be puffectly good."
+
+"Let's play Johnny Baptist," suggested the ever-helpful Tony, "and we
+could pittend to bring in his head on a charger."
+
+"Certainly not," Meg said hastily. "That would be a horrid game."
+
+"Let me be the daughter!" little Fay implored, "and dance in flont of
+Helod."
+
+This was permitted, and Tony, decorated with William's chain, sat
+gloomily scowling at the gyrations of "the daughter," who, assisted by
+William, danced all over the nursery: and Meg, watching the
+representation, decided that if the original "daughter" was half as
+bewitching as this one, there really might have been some faint excuse
+for Herod.
+
+Hannah had no idea of these goings-on, or she would have expected the
+roof to fall in and crush them. Yet she, too, was included among the
+children's prophets, owing to her exact and thorough knowledge of
+"Clipture." Hannah's favourite part of the Bible was the Book of Daniel,
+which she knew practically by heart; and her rendering of certain
+chapters was--though she would have hotly resented the phrase--extremely
+dramatic.
+
+It is so safe and satisfying to know that your favourite story will run
+smoothly, clause for clause, and word for word, just as you like it
+best, and the children were always sure of this with Hannah.
+
+Anne Chitt would listen open-mouthed in astonishment, exclaiming
+afterwards, "Why, 'Annah, wot a tremenjous lot of Bible verses you 'ave
+learned to be sure."
+
+The children once tried Anne Chitt as a storyteller, but she was a
+failure.
+
+As she had been present at several of Hannah's recitals of the Three
+Children and the burning fiery furnace, they thought it but a modest
+demand upon her powers. But when--instead of beginning with the sonorous
+"_Then an herald cried aloud, To you it is commanded, O people, nations
+and languages_"--when she wholly omitted any reference to "_the sound of
+cornet, flute, harp, sackbut, psaltery, and dulcimer_, and all kinds of
+musick"--and essayed to tell the story in broad Gloucestershire and her
+own bald words, the disappointed children fell upon her and thumped her
+rudely upon the back; declaring her story to be "_kutcha_" and she,
+herself, a _budmash_. Which, being interpreted, meant that her story was
+most badly made and that she, herself, was a rascal.
+
+Anne Chitt was much offended, and complained tearfully to Jan that she
+"wouldn't 'ave said nothin' if they'd called 'er or'nery names, but them
+there Injian words was more than she could abear."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX
+
+"ONE WAY OF LOVE"
+
+
+Among the neighbours there was none more assiduous in the matter of
+calls and other friendly manifestations than Mr. Huntly
+Withells--emphasis on the "ells"--who lived at Guiting Grange, about a
+couple of miles from Wren's End. Mr. Withells was settled at the Grange
+some years before Miss Janet Ross left her house to Jan, and he was
+already a person of importance and influence in that part of the county
+when Anthony Ross and his daughters first spent a whole summer there.
+
+Mr. Withells proved most neighbourly. He had artistic leanings himself,
+and possessed some good pictures; among them, one of Anthony's, which
+naturally proved a bond of union. He did not even so much as sketch,
+himself--which Anthony considered another point in his favour--but he
+was a really skilled photographer, possessed the most elaborate cameras,
+and obtained quite beautiful results.
+
+Since Jan's return from India he had completely won her heart by taking
+a great many photographs of the children, pictures delightfully natural,
+and finished as few amateurs contrive to present them.
+
+It was rumoured in Amber Guiting that Mr. Withells' views on the
+subject of matrimony were "peculiar"; but all the ladies, especially the
+elderly ladies, were unanimous in declaring that he had a "beautiful
+mind."
+
+Mrs. Fream, the vicar's wife, timidly confided to Jan that Mr. Withells
+had told her husband that he cared only for "spiritual marriage"--
+whatever that might be; and that, as yet, he had met no woman whom he
+felt would see eye to eye with him on this question. "He doesn't approve
+of caresses," she added.
+
+"Well, who wants to caress him?" Jan asked bluntly.
+
+Meg declared there was one thing she could not bear about Mr. Withells,
+and that was the way he shook hands, "exactly as if he had no thumbs. If
+he's so afraid of touching one as all that comes to, why doesn't he let
+it alone?"
+
+Yet the apparently thumbless hands were constantly occupied in bearing
+gifts of all kinds to his friends.
+
+In appearance he was dapper, smallish, without being undersized, always
+immaculately neat in his attire, with a clean-shaven, serious, rather
+sallow face, which was inclined to be chubby as to the cheeks. He wore
+double-sighted pince-nez, and no mortal had ever seen him without them.
+His favourite writer was Miss Jane Austen, and he deplored the
+licentious tendency of so much modern literature; frequently, and with
+flushed countenance, denouncing certain books as an "outrage." He was
+considered a very well-read man. He disliked anything that was "not
+quite nice," and detested a strong light, whether it were thrown upon
+life or landscape; in bright sunshine he always carried a white umbrella
+lined with green. The game he played best was croquet, and here he was
+really first class; but he was also skilled in every known form of
+Patience, and played each evening unless he happened to be dining out.
+
+As regards food he was something of a faddist, and on the subject of
+fresh air almost a monomaniac. He declared that he could not exist for
+ten minutes in a room with closed windows, and that the smell of apples
+made him feel positively faint; moreover, he would mention his somewhat
+numerous antipathies as though there were something peculiarly
+meritorious in possessing so many. This made his entertainment at any
+meal a matter of agitated consideration among the ladies of Amber
+Guiting.
+
+Nevertheless, he kept an excellent and hospitable table himself, and in
+no way forced his own taste upon others. He disliked the smell of
+tobacco and hardly ever drank wine, yet he kept a stock of excellent
+cigars and his cellar was beyond reproach.
+
+He had been observing Jan for several years, and was rapidly coming to
+the conclusion that she was an "eminently sensible woman." Her grey hair
+and the way she had managed everything for her father led him to believe
+that she was many years older than her real age. Recently he had taken
+to come to Wren's End on one pretext and another almost every day. He
+was kind and pleasant to the children, who amused and pleased
+him--especially little Fay; but he was much puzzled by Meg, whom he had
+known in pre-cap-and-apron days while she was staying at Wren's End.
+
+He couldn't quite place Meg, and there was an occasional glint in her
+queer eyes that he found disconcerting. He was never comfortable in her
+society, for he objected to red hair almost as strongly as to a smell of
+apples.
+
+He really liked the children, and since he knew he couldn't get Jan
+without them he was beginning to think that in such a big house as the
+Grange they would not necessarily be much in the way. He knew nothing
+whatever about Hugo Tancred.
+
+Jan satisfied his fastidious requirements. She was dignified, graceful,
+and, he considered, of admirable parts. He felt that in a very little
+while he could imbue Jan with his own views as to the limitations and
+delicate demarcations of such a marriage as he contemplated.
+
+She was so sensible.
+
+Meanwhile the object of these kind intentions was wholly unaware of
+them. She was just then very much absorbed in her own affairs and
+considerably worried about Meg's. For Captain Middleton's week-end was
+repeated on the following Saturday and extended far into the next week.
+He came constantly to Wren's End, where the children positively adored
+him, and he seemed to possess an infallible instinct which led him to
+the village whensoever Meg and her charges had business there.
+
+On such occasions Meg was often quite rude to Captain Middleton, but the
+children and William more than atoned for her coldness by the warmth of
+their welcome, and he attached himself to them.
+
+In fact, as regards the nursery party at Wren's End, Miles strongly
+resembled William before a fire--you might drive him away ninety and
+nine times, he always came thrusting back with the same expression of
+deprecating astonishment that you could be other than delighted to see
+him.
+
+Whither was it all tending? Jan wondered.
+
+No further news had come from Hugo; Peter, she supposed, had sailed and
+was due in London at the end of the week.
+
+Then Mr. Huntly Withells asked her one afternoon to bicycle over to see
+his spring irises--he called them "_irides_," and invariably spoke of
+"_croci_," and "_delphinia_"--and as Meg was taking the children to tea
+at the vicarage, Jan went.
+
+To her surprise, she found herself the sole guest, but supposed she was
+rather early and that his other friends hadn't come yet.
+
+They strolled about the gardens, so lovely in their spring blossoming,
+and it happened that from one particular place they got a specially good
+view of the house.
+
+"How much larger it is than you would think, looking at the front," Jan
+remarked. "You don't see that wing at all from the drive."
+
+"There's plenty of room for nephews and nieces," Mr. Withells said
+jocularly.
+
+"Have you many nephews and nieces?" she asked, turning to look at him,
+for there was something in the tone of his voice that she could not
+understand.
+
+"Not of my own," he replied, still in that queer, unnatural voice, "but
+you see my wife might have ... if I was married."
+
+"Are you thinking of getting married?" she asked, with the real interest
+such a subject always rouses in woman.
+
+"That depends," Mr. Withells said consciously, "on whether the lady I
+have in mind ... er ... shall we sit down, Miss Ross? It's rather hot in
+the walks."
+
+"Oh, not yet," Jan exclaimed. She couldn't think why, but she began to
+feel uncomfortable. "I must see those Darwin tulips over there."
+
+"It's very sunny over there," he objected. "Come down the nut-walk and
+see the _myosotis arvensis_; it is already in bloom, the weather has
+been so warm.
+
+"Miss Ross," Mr. Withells continued seriously, as they turned into the
+nut-walk which led back towards the house, "we have known each other for
+a considerable time...."
+
+"We have," said Jan, as he had paused, evidently expecting a reply.
+
+"And I have come to have a great regard for you...."
+
+Again he paused, and Jan found herself silently whispering, "Curtsy
+while you're thinking--it saves time," but she preserved an outward
+silence.
+
+"You are, if I may say so, the most sensible woman of my acquaintance."
+
+"Thank you," said Jan, but without enthusiasm.
+
+"We are neither of us quite young"--(Mr. Withells was forty-nine, but it
+was a little hard on Jan)--"and I feel sure that you, for instance,
+would not expect or desire from a husband those constant outward
+demonstrations of affection such as handclaspings and kisses, which are
+so foolish and insanitary."
+
+Jan turned extremely red and walked rather faster.
+
+"Do not misunderstand me, Miss Ross," Mr. Withells continued, looking
+with real admiration at her downcast, rosy face--she must be quite
+healthy he thought, to look so clean and fresh always--"I lay down no
+hard-and-fast rules. I do not say should my wife desire to kiss me
+sometimes, that I should ... repulse her."
+
+Jan gasped.
+
+"But I have the greatest objection, both on sanitary and moral grounds
+to----"
+
+"I can't imagine anyone _wanting_ to kiss you," Jan interrupted
+furiously; "you're far too puffy and stippled."
+
+And she ran from him as though an angry bull were after her.
+
+Mr. Withells stood stock-still where he was, in pained astonishment.
+
+He saw the fleeing fair one disappear into the distance and in the
+shortest time on record he heard the clanging of her bicycle bell as she
+scorched down his drive.
+
+"Puffy and stippled"--"Puffy and stippled"!
+
+Mr. Withells repeated to himself this rudely personal remark as he
+walked slowly towards the house.
+
+What could she mean?
+
+And what in the world had he said to make her so angry?
+
+Women were really most unaccountable.
+
+He ascended his handsome staircase and went into his dressing-room, and
+there he sought his looking-glass, which stood in the window, and
+surveyed himself critically. Yes, his cheeks _were_ a bit puffy near the
+nostrils, and, as is generally the case in later life, the pores of the
+skin were a bit enlarged, but for all that he was quite a personable
+man.
+
+He sighed. Miss Ross, he feared, was not nearly so sensible as he had
+thought.
+
+It was distinctly disappointing.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+For the first mile and a quarter Jan scorched all she knew. The angry
+blood was thumping in her ears and she exclaimed indignantly at
+intervals, "How dared he! How dared he!"
+
+Then she punctured a tyre.
+
+There was no hope of getting it mended till she reached Wren's End, when
+Earley would do it for her. As she pushed her bicycle along the lane she
+recovered her sense of humour and she laughed. And presently she became
+aware of a faint, sweet, elusive perfume from some flowering shrub on
+the other side of somebody's garden wall.
+
+It strongly resembled the smell of a blossoming tree that grew on Ridge
+Road, Malabar Hill. And in one second Jan was in Bombay, and was
+standing in the moonlight, looking up into a face that was neither puffy
+nor stippled nor prim; but young and thin and worn and very kind. And
+the exquisite understanding of that moment came back to her, and her
+eyes filled with tears.
+
+Yet in another moment she was again demanding indignantly, "How dared
+he!"
+
+She went straight to her room when she got in, and, like Mr. Withells,
+she went and looked at herself in the glass.
+
+Unlike Mr. Withells, she saw nothing there to give her any satisfaction.
+She shook her head at the person in the glass and said aloud:
+
+"If that's all you get by trying to be sensible, the sooner you become a
+drivelling idiot the better for your peace of mind--and your vanity."
+
+The person in the glass shook her head back at Jan, and Jan turned away
+thoroughly disgusted with such a futile sort of _tu quoque_.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI
+
+ANOTHER WAY OF LOVE
+
+
+Meg and the children, returning from their tea-party at the vicarage,
+were stopped continually in their journey through the main street by
+friendly folk who wanted to greet the children. It was quite a triumphal
+progress, and Meg was feeling particularly proud that afternoon, for her
+charges, including William, had all behaved beautifully. Little Fay had
+refrained from snatching other children's belongings with the cool
+remark, "Plitty little Fay would like 'at"; Tony had been quite merry
+and approachable; and William had offered paws and submitted to
+continual pullings, pushings and draggings with exemplary patience.
+
+Once through the friendly, dignified old street, they reached the main
+road, which was bordered by rough grass sloping to a ditch surmounted by
+a thick thorn hedge. They were rather late, and Meg was wheeling little
+Fay as fast as she could, Tony trotting beside her to keep up, when a
+motor horn was sounded behind them and a large car came along at a good
+speed. They were all well to the side of the road, but William--with the
+perverse stupidity of the young dog--above all, of the young
+bull-terrier--chose that precise moment to gambol aimlessly right into
+the path of the swiftly-coming motor, just as it seemed right upon him;
+and this, regardless of terrified shouts from Meg and the children,
+frantic sounding of the horn and violent language from the driver of the
+car.
+
+It seemed that destruction must inevitably overtake William when the car
+swerved violently as the man ran it down the sloping bank, where it
+stuck, leaving William, unscathed and rather alarmed by all the clamour,
+to run back to his family.
+
+Meg promptly whacked him as hard as she could, whereupon, much
+surprised, he turned over on his back, waving four paws feebly in the
+air.
+
+"Why don't you keep your dog at the side?" the man shouted with very
+natural irritation as he descended from his seat.
+
+"He's a naughty--stupid--puppy," Meg ejaculated between the whacks. "It
+wasn't your fault in the least, and it was awfully good of you to avoid
+him."--Whack--whack.
+
+The man started a little as she spoke and came across the road towards
+them.
+
+Meg raised a flushed face from her castigation of William, but the
+pretty colour faded quickly when she saw who the stranger was.
+
+"Meg!" he exclaimed. "_You!_"
+
+For a tense moment they stared at one another, while the children stared
+at the stranger. He was certainly a handsome man; melancholy,
+"interesting." Pale, with regular features and sleepy, smallish eyes set
+very near together.
+
+"If you knew how I have searched for you," he said.
+
+His voice was his great charm, and would have made his fortune on the
+stage. It could convey so much, could be so tender and beseeching, so
+charged with deepest sadness, so musical always.
+
+"Your search cannot have been very arduous," Meg answered drily. "There
+has never been any mystery about my movements." And she looked him
+straight in the face.
+
+"At first, I was afraid ... I did not try to find you."
+
+"You were well-advised."
+
+"Who is 'at sahib?" little Fay interrupted impatiently. "Let us go
+home." She had no use for any sahib who ignored her presence.
+
+"Yes, we'd better be getting on," Meg said hurriedly, and seized the
+handle of the pram.
+
+But he stood right in their path.
+
+"You were very cruel," the musical voice went on. "You never seemed to
+give a thought to all _I_ was suffering."
+
+Meg met the sleepy eyes, that used to thrill her very soul, with a look
+of scornful amusement in hers that was certainly the very last
+expression he had ever expected to see in them.
+
+She had always dreaded this moment.
+
+Realising the power this man had exercised over her, she always feared
+that should she meet him again the old glamour would surround him; the
+old domination be reasserted. She forgot that in five years one's
+standards change.
+
+Now that she did meet him she discovered that he held no bonds with
+which to bind her. That what she had dreaded was a chimera. The real
+Walter Brooke, the moment he appeared in the flesh, destroyed the image
+memory had set up; and Meg straightened her slender shoulders as though
+a heavy burden had dropped from them.
+
+The whole thing passed like a flash.
+
+"You were very cruel," he repeated.
+
+"There is no use going into all that," Meg answered in a cheerful,
+matter-of-fact tone. "Good-bye, Mr. Brooke. We are most grateful to you
+for not running over William, who is," here she raised her voice for the
+benefit of the culprit, "a naughty--tiresome dog."
+
+"But you can't leave me like this. When can I see you again--there is so
+much I want to explain...."
+
+"But I don't want any explanations, thank you. Come children, we _must_
+go."
+
+"Meg, listen ... surely you have some little feeling of kindness towards
+me ... after all that happened...."
+
+He put his hand on Meg's arm to detain her, and William, who had never
+been known to show enmity to human creature, gave a deep growl and
+bristled. A growl so ominous and threatening that Meg hastily loosed the
+pram and caught him by the collar with both hands.
+
+Tony saw that Meg was flustered and uncomfortable. "Why does he not go?"
+he asked. "I thought he was a sahib, but I suppose he is the
+gharri-wallah. We have thanked him--does he want backsheesh? Give him a
+rupee."
+
+"He _does_ want backsheesh," the deep, musical voice went on--"a little
+pity, a little common kindness."
+
+It was an embarrassing situation. William was straining at his collar
+and growling like an incipient thunderstorm.
+
+"We have thanked you," Tony said again with dignity. "We have no money,
+or we would reward you. If you like to call at the house, Auntie Jan
+always has money."
+
+The man smiled pleasantly at Tony.
+
+"Thank you, young man. You have told me exactly what I wanted to know.
+So you are with your friends?"
+
+"I can't hold this dog much longer," Meg gasped. "If you don't
+go--you'll get bitten."
+
+William ceased to growl, for far down the road he had heard a footstep
+that he knew. He still strained at his collar, but it was in a direction
+that led away from Mr. Walter Brooke. Meg let go and William swung off
+down the road.
+
+"Shall we all have a lide in loo ghalli?" little Fay asked--it seemed to
+her sheer waste of time to stand arguing in the road when a good car was
+waiting empty. The children called every form of conveyance a "gharri."
+
+"We shall meet again," said this persistent man. "You can't put me off
+like this."
+
+He raised his voice, for he was angry, and its clear tones carried far
+down the quiet road.
+
+"There's Captain Middleton with William," Tony said suddenly. "Perhaps
+_he_ has some money."
+
+Meg paled and crimsoned, and with hands that trembled started to push
+the pram at a great pace.
+
+The man went back to his car, and Tony, regardless of Meg's call to him,
+ran to meet William and Miles.
+
+The back wheels of the car had sunk deeply into the soft wet turf. It
+refused to budge. Miles came up. He was long-sighted, and he had seen
+very well who it was that was talking to Meg in the road. He had also
+heard Mr. Brooke's last remark.
+
+Till lately he had only known Walter Brooke enough to dislike him
+vaguely. Since his interview with Mrs. Trent this feeling had
+intensified to such an extent as surprised himself. At the present
+moment he was seething with rage, but all the same he went and helped to
+get the car up the bank, jacking it up, and setting his great shoulders
+against it to start it again.
+
+All this Tony watched with deepest interest, and Meg waited, fuming, a
+little way down the road, for she knew it was hopeless to get Tony to
+come till the car had once started. Once on the hard road again, it
+bowled swiftly away and to her immense relief passed her without
+stopping.
+
+She saw that Miles was bringing Tony, and started on again with little
+Fay.
+
+Fury was in her heart at Tony's disobedience, and behind it all a dull
+ache that Miles should have heard, and doubtless misunderstood, Walter
+Brooke's last remark.
+
+Tony was talking eagerly as he followed, but she was too upset to listen
+till suddenly she heard Miles say in a tone of the deepest satisfaction,
+"Good old William."
+
+This was too much.
+
+She stopped and called over her shoulder: "He isn't good at all; he's a
+thoroughly tiresome, disobedient, badly-trained dog."
+
+They came up with her at that, and William rolled over on his back, for
+he knew those tones portended further punishment.
+
+"He's an ass in lots of ways," Miles allowed, "but he is an excellent
+judge of character."
+
+And as if in proof of this William righted himself and came cringing to
+Meg to try and lick the hand that a few minutes ago had thumped him so
+vigorously.
+
+Meg looked up at Miles and he looked down at her, and his gaze was
+pained, kind and grave. _His_ eyes were large and well-opened and set
+wide apart in his broad face. Honest, trustworthy eyes they were.
+
+Very gently he took the little pram from her, for he saw that her hands
+were trembling: "You've had a fright," he said. "I know what it is. I
+had a favourite dog run over once. It's horrible, it takes months to get
+over it. I can't think why dogs are so stupid about motors ... must have
+been a near shave that ... very decent of Brooke--he's taken pounds off
+his car with that wrench."
+
+While Miles talked he didn't look at Meg.
+
+"I say, little Fay," he suddenly suggested, "wouldn't you like to walk a
+bit?" and he lifted her out. "There, that's better. Now, Miss Morton,
+you sit down a minute; you've had a shake, you know. I'll go on with the
+kiddies."
+
+Meg was feeling a horrible, humiliating desire to cry. Her eyes were
+bright with unshed tears, her knees refused to bear her. Thankfully she
+sat down on the foot-board of Fay's little pram. The tall figure between
+the two little ones suddenly grew blurred and dim. Furtively she blew
+her nose and wiped her eyes. They were not a stone's throw from the
+lodge at Wren's End.
+
+How absurd to be sitting there!
+
+And yet she didn't feel inclined to move just yet.
+
+"'Ere, my dear, you take a sip o' water; the gentleman's told me all
+about it. Them sort o' shocks fair turns one over."
+
+And kind Mrs. Earley was beside her, holding out a thick tumbler. Meg
+drank the deliciously cold water and arose refreshed.
+
+And somehow the homely comfort of Mrs. Earley's presence made her
+realise wherein lay the essential difference between these two men.
+
+"He still treats me like a princess," she thought, "even though he
+thinks ... Oh, what _can_ he think?" and Meg gave a little sob.
+
+"There, there!" said Mrs. Earley, "don't you take on no more, Miss. The
+dear dog bain't 'urted not a 'air of him. 'E cum frolicking in that
+friendly--I sometimes wonders if there do be anyone as William 'ud ever
+bite. 'E ain't much of a watchdog, I fear."
+
+"He nearly bit someone this afternoon," Meg said.
+
+"Well, I'm not sorry to yer it. It don't do for man nor beast to be too
+trustful--not in this world it don't."
+
+At the drive gate Miles was standing.
+
+Mrs. Earley took the pram with her for Earley to clean, and Meg and
+Miles walked on together.
+
+"I'm sorry you've had this upset," he said. "I've talked to William like
+a father."
+
+"It wasn't only William," Meg murmured.
+
+They were close to the house, and she stopped.
+
+"Good night, Captain Middleton. I must go and put my children to bed;
+we're late."
+
+"I don't want to seem interfering, Miss Morton, but don't you let anyone
+bully you into picking up an acquaintance you'd rather drop."
+
+"I suppose," said Meg, "one always has to pay for the things one has
+done."
+
+"Well, yes, sooner or later; but it's silly to pay Jew prices."
+
+"Ah," said Meg, "you've never been poor enough to go to the Jews, so you
+can't tell."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Miles walked slowly back to Amber Guiting that warm May evening. He had
+a good deal to think over, for he had come to a momentous decision. When
+he thought of Meg as he had just seen her--small and tremulous and
+tearful--he clenched his big hands and made a sound in his throat not
+unlike William's growl. When he pictured her angry onslaught upon
+William, he laughed. But the outcome of his reflections was this--that
+whether in the past she had really done anything that put her in Walter
+Brooke's power, or whether he was right to trust to that intangible
+quality in her that seemed to give the direct lie to the worst of Mrs.
+Trent's story, Meg appeared to him to stand in need of some hefty chap
+as a buffer between her and the hard world, and he was very desirous of
+being that same for Meg.
+
+His grandfather, "Mutton-Pie Middleton," had married one of his own
+waitresses for no other reason than that he found she was "the lass for
+him"--and he might, so the Doncaster folk thought, have looked a good
+deal higher for a wife, for he was a "warm" man at the time. Miles
+strongly resembled his grandfather. He was somewhat ruefully aware that
+in appearance there was but little of the Keills about him. He could
+just remember the colossal old man who must have weighed over twenty
+stone in his old age, and Miles, hitherto, had refused to buy a motor
+for his own use because he knew that if he was to keep his figure he
+must walk, and walk a lot.
+
+Like his grandfather, he was now perfectly sure of himself; Meg "was the
+lass for him"; but he was by no means equally sure of her. By some
+infallible delicacy of instinct--and this he certainly did not get from
+the Middletons--he knew that what the world would regard as a
+magnificent match for Meg, might be the very circumstance that would
+destroy his chance with her. The Middletons were all keenly alive to the
+purchasing powers of money, and saw to it that they got their money's
+worth.
+
+All the same, a man's a man, whether he be rich or poor, and Miles still
+remembered the way Meg had smiled upon him the first time they ever met.
+Surely she could never have smiled at him like that unless she had
+rather liked him.
+
+It was the pathos of Meg herself--not the fact that she had to
+work--that appealed to Miles. That she should cheerfully earn her own
+living instead of grousing in idleness in a meagre home seemed to him
+merely a matter of common sense. He knew that if he had to do it he
+could earn his, and the one thing he could neither tolerate nor
+understand about a good many of his Keills relations was their
+preference for any form of assistance to honest work. He helped them
+generously enough, but in his heart of hearts he despised them, though
+he did not confess this even to himself.
+
+As he drew near the Manor House he saw Lady Mary walking up and down
+outside, evidently waiting for him.
+
+"Where have you been, Miles?" she asked, impatiently. "Pen has been
+here, and wanted specially to see you, but she couldn't stay any longer,
+as it's such a long run back. She motored over from Malmesbury."
+
+"What did she want?" Miles asked. "She's always in a stew about
+something. One of her Pekinese got pip, or what?"
+
+Lady Mary took his arm and turned to walk along the terrace. "I think,"
+she said, and stopped. "Where _were_ you, Miles?"
+
+"I strolled down the village to get some tobacco, and then I saw a chap
+who'd got his motor stuck, and helped him, and then ..." Here Miles
+looked down at his aunt, who looked up at him apprehensively. "I caught
+up with Miss Morton and the children, and walked back to Wren's End with
+them. There, Aunt Mary, that's a categorical history of my time since
+tea."
+
+Lady Mary pressed his arm. "Miles, dear, do you think it's quite wise to
+be seen about so much with little Miss Morton ... wise for her I mean?"
+
+"I hope I'm not the sort of chap it's bad to be seen about with...."
+
+"Of course not, dear Miles, but, you see, her position...."
+
+"What's the matter with her position?"
+
+"Of course I know it's most creditable of her and all that ... but ...
+when a girl has to go out as a sort of nursery governess, it is
+different, isn't it, dear? I mean...."
+
+"Yes, Aunt Mary, I'm awfully interested--different from what?"
+
+"From girls who lead the sheltered life, girls who don't work ... girls
+of our own class."
+
+"I don't know," Miles said thoughtfully, "that I should say Pen, for
+instance, lives exactly a _sheltered_ life, should you?"
+
+"Pen is married."
+
+"Yes, but before she was married ... eh, Aunt Mary? Be truthful, now."
+
+Miles held his aunt's arm tightly within his, and he stooped and looked
+into her face.
+
+"And does the fact that Pen is married explain or excuse her deplorable
+taste in men? Which does it do, Aunt Mary? Speak up, now."
+
+Lady Mary laughed. "I'm not here to defend Pen; I'm here to get your
+answer as to whether you think it's ... quite fair to make that little
+Miss Morton conspicuous by running after her and making her the talk of
+the entire county, for that's what you're doing."
+
+"What good old Pen has been telling you I'm doing, I suppose."
+
+"I had my own doubts about it without any help from Pen ... but she said
+Alec Pottinger had been talking...."
+
+"Pottinger's an ass."
+
+"He doesn't talk _much_, anyhow, Miles, and she felt if _he_ said
+anything...."
+
+"Look here, Aunt Mary, how's a chap to go courting seriously if he
+doesn't run after a girl?... he can't work it from a distance ... not
+unless he's one of those poet chaps, and puts letters in hollow trees
+and so on. And you don't seem to have provided any hollow trees about
+here."
+
+"Courting ... seriously!" Lady Mary repeated with real horror in her
+tones. "Oh, Miles, you can't mean that!"
+
+"Surely you'd not prefer I meant the other thing?"
+
+"But, Miles dear, think!"
+
+"I have thought, and I've thought it out."
+
+"You mean you want to _marry_ her?"
+
+Lady Mary spoke in an awed whisper.
+
+"Just exactly that, and I don't care who knows it; but I'm not at all
+sure she wants to marry me ... that's why I don't want to rush my fences
+and get turned down. I'm a heavy chap to risk a fall, Aunt Mary."
+
+"Oh, Miles! this is worse than anything Pen even dreamt of."
+
+"What is? If you mean that she probably won't have me--I'm with you."
+
+"Of course she'd jump at you--any girl would.... But a little
+nursemaid!"
+
+"Come now, Aunt Mary, you know very well she's just as good as I am;
+better, probably, for she's got no pies nor starch in her pedigree. Her
+father's a Major and her mother was of quite good family--and she's got
+lots of rich, stingy relations ... and she doesn't sponge on 'em. What's
+the matter with her?"
+
+"Please don't do anything in a hurry, dear Miles."
+
+"I shan't, if you and Pen and the blessed 'county,' with its criticism
+and gossip, don't drive me into it ... but the very first word you
+either say or repeat to me against Miss Morton, off I go to her and to
+the old Major.... So now we understand each other, Aunt Mary--eh?"
+
+"There are things you ought to know, Miles."
+
+"You may depend," said Miles grimly, "that anything I ought to know I
+shall be told ... over and over again ... confound it.... And remember,
+Aunt Mary, that what I've told you is not in the least private. Tell
+Pen, tell Mrs. Fream, tell Withells, but just leave me to tell Miss
+Ross, that's all I beg."
+
+"Miles, I shall tell nobody, for I hope ... I hope----"
+
+"'Hope told a flattering tale,'" said Miles, and kissed his aunt ... but
+to himself he said: "I've shut their mouths for a day or two anyway."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII
+
+THE ENCAMPMENT
+
+
+It was the morning of the first Monday in June, and Tony had wandered
+out into the garden all by himself. Monday mornings were very busy, and
+once Clipture was over Jan and Meg became socially useless to any
+self-respecting boy.
+
+There was all the washing to sort and divide into two large heaps: what
+might be sent to Mrs. Chitt in the village, and what might be kept for
+the ministrations of one Mrs. Mumford, who came every Monday to Wren's
+End. And this division was never arrived at without a good deal of
+argument between Jan and Meg.
+
+If Jan had had her way, Mrs. Mumford's heap would have been very small
+indeed, and would have consisted chiefly of socks and handkerchiefs. If
+Meg had had hers, nothing at all would have gone to Mrs. Chitt. Usually,
+too, Hannah was called in as final arbitrator, and she generally sided
+with Meg. Little Fay took the greatest interest in the whole ceremony,
+chattered continually, and industriously mixed up the heaps when no one
+was looking.
+
+At such times Tony was of the opinion that there were far too many women
+in the world. On this particular morning, too, he felt injured because
+of something that had happened at breakfast.
+
+It was always a joy to Meg and Jan that whatever poor Fay might have
+left undone in the matter of disciplining her children, she had at least
+taught them to eat nicely. Little Fay's management of a spoon was a joy
+to watch. The dimpled baby hand was so deft, the turn of the plump wrist
+so sure and purposeful. She never spilled or slopped her food about. Its
+journey from bowl to little red mouth was calculated and assured. Both
+children had a horror of anything sticky, and would refuse jam unless it
+was "well covelled in a sangwidge."
+
+That very morning Jan and Meg exchanged congratulatory glances over
+their well-behaved charges, sitting side by side.
+
+Then, all at once, with a swift, sure movement, little Fay stretched up
+and deposited a spoonful of exceedingly hot porridge exactly on the top
+of her brother's head, with a smart tap.
+
+Tony's hair was always short, and had been cut on Saturday, and the hot
+mixture ran down into his eyes, which filled him with rage.
+
+He tried to get out of his high chair, exclaiming angrily, "Let me get
+at her to box her!"
+
+Jan held him down with one hand while she wiped away the offending mess
+with the other, and all the time Tony cried in _crescendo_, "Let me get
+at her!"
+
+Little Fay, quite unmoved, continued to eat her porridge with studied
+elegance, and in gently reproachful tones remarked, "Tony velly closs
+littoo boy."
+
+Jan and Meg, who wanted desperately to laugh, tried hard to look
+shocked, and Meg asked, "What on earth possessed you to do such a
+thing?"
+
+"Tony's head so shiny and smoove."
+
+Tony rubbed the shiny head ruefully.
+
+"Can't I do nuffin to her?" he demanded.
+
+"No," his sister answered firmly, "loo can't, 'cos I'm plitty littoo
+Fay."
+
+"Can't I plop some on _her_ head?" he persisted.
+
+"It certainly seems unfair," Jan said thoughtfully, "but I think you'd
+better not."
+
+"It _is_ unfair," Tony grumbled.
+
+Jan loosed his hands. "Now," she said, "you can do what you like."
+
+Little Fay leaned towards her brother, smiling her irresistible,
+dimpled, twinkling smile, and held out a spoonful of her porridge.
+
+"Deah littoo Tony," she cooed, "taste it."
+
+And Tony meekly accepted the peace-offering.
+
+"You haven't smacked her," Jan remarked.
+
+Tony sighed. "It's too late now--I don't feel like it any more."
+
+All the same he felt aggrieved as he set out to seek Earley in the
+kitchen garden.
+
+Earley was not to be found. He saw Mrs. Mumford already hanging kitchen
+cloths on a line in the orchard, but he felt no desire for Mrs.
+Mumford's society.
+
+Tony's tormented soul sought for something soothing.
+
+The garden was pleasant, but it wasn't enough.
+
+Ah! he'd got it!
+
+He'd go to the river; all by himself he'd go, and not tell anybody. He'd
+look over the bridge into that cool deep pool and perhaps that big fat
+trout would be swimming about. What was it he had heard Captain
+Middleton say last time he was down at Amber Guiting? "The Mayfly was
+up."
+
+He had seemed quite delighted about it, therefore it must mean something
+pleasant.
+
+After all, on a soft, not too sunny morning in early June, with a west
+wind rustling the leaves in the hedges, the world was not such a bad
+place; for even if there were rather too many women in it, there were
+dogs and rivers and country roads where adventurous boys could see life
+for themselves.
+
+William agreed with Tony in his dislike of Monday mornings. He went and
+lay on the front door mat so that he was more than ready to accompany
+anyone who happened to be going out.
+
+By the time they reached the bridge all sense of injury had vanished,
+and buoyant expectation had taken its place.
+
+Three men were fishing. One was far in the distance, one about three
+hundred yards up stream, and one Tony recognised as Mr. Dauncey,
+landlord of "The Full Basket," the square white house standing in its
+neat garden just on the other side of the bridge. The fourth gentleman,
+who had forgotten his hat, and was clad in a holland smock, sandals,
+and no stockings, leaned over luxuriously, with his elbows on the low
+wall and his bare legs thrust out. He was very still, even trying not to
+twitch when William licked his bare legs, as he did at intervals just to
+show he was there on guard.
+
+There had been heavy rain in the night and the water was discoloured.
+Nobody noticed Tony, and for about an hour nothing happened. Then Mr.
+Dauncey got a rise. The rigid little figure on the bridge leaned further
+over as Mr. Dauncey's reel screamed and he followed his cast down
+stream.
+
+Presently, with a sense of irritation, Tony was aware of footsteps
+coming over the bridge. He felt that he simply could not bear it just
+then if anyone leaned over beside him and talked. The footsteps came up
+behind him and passed; and William, who was lying between Tony's legs
+and the wall, squeezed as close to him as possible, gave a low growl.
+
+"Hush, William, naughty dog!" Tony whispered crossly.
+
+William hushed, and drooped as he always did when rebuked.
+
+It occurred to Tony to look after this amazing person who could cross a
+bridge without stopping to look over when a reel was joyfully
+proclaiming that some fisherman was having luck.
+
+It was a man, and he walked as though he were footsore and tired. There
+was something dejected and shabby in his appearance, and his clothes
+looked odd somehow in Amber Guiting. Tony stared after the stranger,
+and gradually he realised that there was something familiar in the back
+of the tall figure that walked so slowly and yet seemed trying to walk
+fast.
+
+The man had a stick and evidently leant upon it as he went. He wore an
+overcoat and carried nothing in his hand.
+
+Mr. Dauncey's reel chuckled and one of the other anglers ran towards him
+with a landing-net.
+
+But Tony still stared after the man. Presently, with a deep sigh, he
+started to follow him.
+
+Just once he turned, in time to see that Mr. Dauncey had landed his
+trout.
+
+The sun came out from behind the clouds. "The Full Basket," the river,
+brown and rippled, the bridge, the two men talking eagerly on the bank
+below, the muddy road growing cream-coloured in patches as it dried,
+were all photographed upon Tony's mind. When he started to follow the
+stranger he was out of sight, but now Tony trotted steadily forward and
+did not look round again.
+
+William was glad. He had been lying in a puddle, and, like little Fay,
+he preferred "a dly place."
+
+Meanwhile, at Wren's End the washing had taken a long time to count and
+to divide. There seemed a positively endless number of little smocks and
+frocks and petticoats and pinafores, and Meg wanted to keep them all for
+Mrs. Mumford to wash, declaring that she (Meg) could starch and iron
+them beautifully. This was quite true. She could iron very well, as she
+did everything she undertook to do. But Jan knew that it tired her
+dreadfully, that the heat and the wielding of the heavy iron were very
+bad for her, and after much argument and many insulting remarks from Meg
+as to Jan's obstinacy and extravagance generally, the things were
+divided. Meg put on little Fay's hat and swept her out into the garden;
+whereupon Jan plunged into Mrs. Mumford's heap, removed all the things
+to be ironed that could not be tackled by Anne Chitt, stuffed them into
+Mrs. Chitt's basket, fastened it firmly and rang for Anne and Hannah to
+carry the things away.
+
+She washed her hands and put on her gardening gloves preparatory to
+going out, humming a gay little snatch of song; and as she ran down the
+wide staircase she heard the bell ring, and saw the figure of a man
+standing in the open doorway.
+
+The maids were carrying the linen down the back stairs, and she went
+across the hall to see what he wanted.
+
+"Well, Jan," he said, and his voice sounded weak and tired. "Here I am
+at last."
+
+He held out his hand, and as she took it she felt how hot and dry it
+was.
+
+"Come in, Hugo," she said quietly. "Why didn't you let me know you were
+coming, and I'd have met you."
+
+The man followed her as she led the way into the cool, fragrant
+drawing-room. He paused in the doorway and passed his hand across his
+eyes. "It does bring it all back," he said.
+
+He sat down in a deep chair and leaned his head against the back,
+closing his eyes. Jan saw that he was thin to emaciation, and that he
+looked very ill; shabby, too, and broken.
+
+The instinct of the nurse that exists in any woman worth her salt was
+roused in Jan. All the passionate indignation she had felt against her
+brother-in-law was merged at the moment in pity and anxiety.
+
+"Hugo," she said gently, "I fear you are ill. Have you had any
+breakfast?"
+
+"I came by the early train to avoid ordering breakfast; I couldn't have
+paid for it. I'd only enough for my fare. Jan, I haven't a single rupee
+left."
+
+He sat forward in the chair with his hands on the arms and closed his
+eyes again.
+
+Jan looked keenly at the handsome, haggard face. There was no pretence
+here. The man was gravely ill. His lips (Jan had always mistrusted his
+well-shaped mouth because it would never really shut) were dry and
+cracked and discoloured, the cheekbones sharp, and there was that deep
+hollow at the back of the neck that always betrays the man in
+ill-health.
+
+She went to him and pressed him back in the chair.
+
+"What do you generally do when you have fever?" she asked.
+
+"Go to bed--if there is a bed; and take quinine and drink hot tea."
+
+"That's what you'd better do now. Where are your things?"
+
+"There's a small bag at the station. They promised to send it up. I
+couldn't carry it and I had no money to pay a boy. I came the long way
+round, Jan, not through the village. No one recognised me."
+
+"I'll get you some tea at once, and I have quinine in the house. Will
+you take some now?"
+
+Hugo laughed. "Your quinine would be of no earthly use to me, but I've
+already taken it this morning. I've got some here in my pocket. The
+minute my bag comes I'll go to bed--if you don't mind."
+
+Someone fumbled at the handle of the door, and Tony, followed by
+William, appeared on the threshold.
+
+Hugo Tancred opened his eyes. "Hullo!" he said. "Do you remember me,
+young shaver?"
+
+Tony came into the room holding out his hand. "How do you do?" he said
+solemnly.
+
+Hugo took it and stared at his son with strange glazed eyes. "You look
+fit enough, anyhow," he said, and dropped the little hand.
+
+"I came as quick as I could," Tony said eagerly to Jan. "But Mr. Dauncey
+caught a trout, and I _had_ to wait a minute."
+
+"Good heavens!" Hugo exclaimed irritably. "Do you all _still_ think and
+talk about nothing but fishing?"
+
+"Come," said Jan, holding out her hand to Tony, "and we'll go and see
+about some breakfast for Daddie."
+
+William, who had been sniffing dubiously at the man in the chair, dashed
+after them.
+
+As they crossed the hall Tony remarked philosophically: "Daddie's got
+fever. He'll be very cross, then he'll be very sad, and then he'll want
+you to give him something, and if you do--p'raps he'll go away."
+
+Jan made no answer.
+
+Tony followed her through the swing door and down the passage to speak
+to Hannah, who was much moved and excited when she heard Mr. Tancred had
+arrived. Hannah was full of sympathy for the "poor young widower," and
+though she could have wished that he had given them notice of his
+coming, still, she supposed him to be so distracted with grief that he
+forgot to do anything of the kind. She and Anne Chitt went there and
+then to make up his bed, while Jan boiled the kettle and got him some
+breakfast.
+
+While she was doing this Meg and little Fay came round to the back to
+look for Tony, whom they found making toast.
+
+"Who's tum?" asked little Fay, while Jan rapidly explained the situation
+to Meg.
+
+"Your Daddie's come."
+
+Little Fay looked rather vague. "What sort of a Daddie?" she asked.
+
+"You take her to see him, Tony, and I'll finish the toast," said Jan,
+taking the fork out of his hand.
+
+When the children had gone Meg said slowly: "And Mr. Ledgard comes
+to-morrow?"
+
+"He can't. I must telegraph and put him off for a day or two. Hugo is
+really ill."
+
+"I shouldn't put him off long, if I were you."
+
+Jan seized the tray: "I'll send a wire now, if you and the children will
+take it down to the post-office for me."
+
+"Why send it at all?" said Meg. "Let him come."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIII
+
+TACTICS
+
+
+It was a fortnight since Hugo Tancred arrived at Wren's End, and Jan had
+twice put off Peter's visit.
+
+During the first few days Hugo's temperature remained so high that she
+grew thoroughly alarmed; and in spite of his protestations that he was
+"quite used to it," she sent for the doctor. Happily the doctor in his
+youth had been in the East and was able to reassure her. His opinion,
+too, had more weight with Hugo on this account, and though he grumbled
+he consented to do what the doctor advised. And at the end of a week
+Hugo was able to come downstairs, looking very white and shaky. He lay
+out in the garden in a deck-chair for most of the day and managed to eat
+a good many of the nourishing dishes Hannah prepared for him.
+
+It had been a hard time for Jan, as Hugo was not an invalid who excited
+compassion in those who had to wait upon him. He took everything for
+granted, was somewhat morose and exacting, and made no attempt to
+control the extreme irritability that so often accompanies fever.
+
+When the fever left him, however, his tone changed, and the second
+stage, indicated by Tony as "sad," set in with severity.
+
+His depression was positively overwhelming, and he seemed to think that
+its public manifestation should arouse in all beholders the most
+poignant and respectful sympathy.
+
+Poor Jan found it very difficult to behave in a manner at all calculated
+to satisfy her brother-in-law. She had not, so far, uttered one word of
+reproach to him, but she _would_ shrink visibly when he tried to discuss
+his wife, and she could not even pretend to believe in the deep
+sincerity of a grief that seemed to find such facile solace in
+expression. The mode of expression, too, in hackneyed, commonplace
+phrases, set her teeth on edge.
+
+She knew that poor Hugo--she called him "poor Hugo" just then--thought
+her cold and unsympathetic because she rather discouraged his
+outpourings; but Fay's death was too lately-lived a tragedy to make it
+possible for her to talk of it--above all, with him; and after several
+abortive attempts Hugo gave up all direct endeavour to make her.
+
+"You are terribly Scotch, Jan," he said one day. "I sometimes wonder
+whether anything could make you _really_ feel."
+
+Jan looked at him with a sort of contemptuous wonder that caused him to
+redden angrily, but she made no reply.
+
+He was her guest, he was a broken man, and she knew well that they had
+not yet even approached their real difference.
+
+Two people, however, took Hugo's attitude of profound dejection in the
+way he expected and liked it to be taken. These were Mr. Withells and
+Hannah.
+
+Mr. Withells did not bear Jan a grudge because of her momentary lapse
+from good manners. In less than a week from the unfortunate interview in
+the nut-walk he had decided that she could not properly have understood
+him; and that he had, perhaps, sprung upon her too suddenly the high
+honour he held in store for her.
+
+So back he came in his neat little two-seater car to call at Wren's End
+as if nothing had happened, and Jan, guiltily conscious that she _had_
+been very rude, was only too thankful to accept the olive-branch in the
+spirit in which it was offered.
+
+He took to coming almost as often as before, and was thoroughly
+interested and commiserating when he heard that poor Mrs. Tancred's
+husband had come home from India and been taken ill almost immediately
+on arrival. He sent some early strawberries grown in barrels in the
+houses, and with them a note conjuring Jan "on no account to leave them
+in the sickroom overnight, as the smell of fruit was so deleterious."
+
+Hannah considered Hugo's impenetrable gloom a most proper and husbandly
+tribute to the departed. She felt that had there been a Mr. Hannah she
+could not have wished him to show more proper feeling had Providence
+thought fit to snatch her from his side. So she expressed her admiration
+in the strongest of soups, the smoothest of custards, and the most
+succulent of mutton-chops. Gladly would she have commanded Mrs. Earley
+to slay her fattest cockerels for the nourishment of "yon poor
+heartbroken young man," but that she remembered (from her experience of
+Fay's only visit) that no one just home from India will give a thank-you
+for chickens.
+
+Jan had cause to bless kind Mr. Withells, for directly Hugo was able for
+it, he came with his largest and most comfortable car, driven by his
+trustworthy chauffeur, to take the invalid for a run right into
+Wiltshire. He pressed Jan to go too, but she pleaded "things to see to"
+at home.
+
+Hugo had seen practically nothing of Meg. She was fully occupied in
+keeping the children out of their father's way. Little Fay "pooah
+daddied" him when they happened to meet, and Tony stared at him in the
+weighing, measuring way Hugo found so trying, but Meg neither looked at
+him nor did she address any remark whatever to him unless she positively
+could not help it.
+
+Meg was thoroughly provoked that he should have chosen to turn up just
+then. She had been most anxious that Peter should come. Firstly,
+because, being sharply observant, she had come to the conclusion that
+his visit would be a real pleasure to Jan, and secondly, because she
+ardently desired to see him herself that she might judge whether he was
+"at all good enough."
+
+And now her well-loved Jan, instead of looking her best, was growing
+thin and haggard, losing her colour, and her sweet serenity, and in
+their place a patient, tired expression in her eyes that went to Meg's
+heart.
+
+She had hardly seen Jan alone for over a week; for since Hugo came
+downstairs Meg had taken all her meals with the children in the nursery,
+while Jan and Hugo had theirs in the rarely-used dining-room. The girls
+breakfasted together, as Hugo had his in his room, but as the children
+were always present there was small chance of any confidential
+conversation.
+
+The first afternoon Mr. Withells took Hugo for a drive, Meg left her
+children in Earley's care the minute she heard the car depart, and went
+to look for Jan in the house.
+
+She found her opening all the windows in the dining-room. Meg shut the
+door and sat on the polished table, lit a cigarette and regarded her own
+pretty swinging feet with interest.
+
+"How long does Mr. Tancred propose to stay?" she asked.
+
+"How can I tell," Jan answered wearily, as she sat down in one of the
+deep window-seats. "He has nowhere to go and no money to go with; and,
+so far, except for a vague allusion to some tea-plantation in Ceylon, he
+has suggested no plans. Oh, yes! I forgot, there was something about
+fruit-farming or vine-growing in California, but I fancy considerable
+capital would be needed for that."
+
+"And how much longer do you intend to keep Mr. Ledgard waiting for _his_
+visit?"
+
+"It would be small pleasure for Mr. Ledgard to come here with Hugo, and
+horrid for Hugo, for he knows perfectly well what Peter ... Mr. Ledgard
+thinks of him."
+
+"But if friend Hugo knew Mr. Ledgard was coming, might it not have an
+accelerating effect upon his movements? You could give him his
+fare--single, mind--to Guernsey. Let him go and stay with his people for
+a bit."
+
+Jan shook her head. "I can't turn him out, Meg; and I'm not going to let
+Mr. Ledgard waste his precious leave on an unpleasant visit. If I could
+give him a good time it would be different; but after all he did for us
+while we were in Bombay, it would be rank ingratitude to let him in for
+more worries at home."
+
+"Perhaps he wouldn't consider them worries. Perhaps he'd _like_ to
+come."
+
+Jan's strained expression relaxed a little and she smiled with her eyes
+fixed on Meg's neat swinging feet. "He _says_ he would."
+
+"Well, then, take him at his word. We can turn the excellent Withells on
+to Hugo. Let him instruct Hugo in the importance of daily free
+gymnastics after one's bath and the necessity for windows being left
+open at the top 'day and night, but _especially_ at night.' Let's tell
+that Peter man to come."
+
+Jan shook her head.
+
+"No, I've explained the situation to him and begged him not to consider
+us any more for the present. We must think of the maids too. You see,
+Hugo makes a good deal of extra work, and I'm afraid Hannah might turn
+grumpy if there was yet another man to do for."
+
+Meg thoughtfully blew beautiful rings of smoke, carefully poked a small
+finger exactly into the centre of each and continued to swing her feet
+in silence.
+
+Jan leaned her head against the casement and closed her eyes.
+
+Without so much as a rustle Meg descended from the table. She went over
+to Jan and dropped a light kiss on the top of the thick wavy hair that
+was so nearly white. Jan opened her tired eyes and smiled.
+
+This quaint person in the green linen frock and big white apron always
+looked so restfully neat and clean, so capable and strong with that
+inward shining strength that burns with a steady light. Jan put her arms
+round Meg and leaned her head against the admirable apron's cool, smooth
+bib.
+
+"You're here, anyway," she said. "You don't know how I thank God for
+that."
+
+Meg held her close. "Listen to me," she said. "You're going on quite a
+wrong tack with that brother-in-law. You are, Jan--I grieve to say
+it--standing between him and his children--you don't allow him to see
+his children, especially his adored daughter, nearly enough. Now that he
+is well enough to take the air with Mr. Withells I propose that we allow
+him to _study_ his children--and how can he study them if they are never
+left with him? Let him realise what it would be if he had them with him
+constantly, and no interfering aunt to keep them in order--do you
+understand, Jan? Have you tumbled to it? You are losing a perfectly
+magnificent opportunity."
+
+Jan pushed Meg a little away from her and looked up: "I believe there's
+a good deal in what you say."
+
+"There's everything in what I say. As long as the man was ill one
+couldn't, of course, but now we can and will--eh, Jan?"
+
+"Not Tony," Jan said nervously. "Hugo doesn't care much for Tony, and
+I'm always afraid what he may say or do to the child."
+
+"If you let him have them both occasionally he may discover that Tony
+has his points."
+
+"They're _both_ perfect darlings," Jan said resentfully. Meg laughed and
+danced a two-step to the door.
+
+"They're darlings that need a good deal of diplomatic managing, and if
+they don't get it they'll raise Cain. I'm going to take them down to the
+post-office directly with my Indian letters. Why not come with us for
+the walk?"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Hugo quite enjoyed his run with Mr. Withells and Mr. Withells enjoyed
+being consulted about Hugo's plans. He felt real sympathy for a young
+man whose health, ruined by one bad station after another, had forced
+him to give up his career in India. He suggested various ameliorating
+treatments to Hugo, who received his advice with respectful gratitude,
+and they arranged to drive again together on Saturday, which was next
+day but one.
+
+Hugo sought the sofa in the drawing-room for a quiet hour before dinner
+and lit a cigar. He had hardly realised his pleasantly tired and rather
+somnolent condition when his daughter entered carrying a large
+Teddy-bear, two dolls, a toy trumpet and a box containing a wooden
+tea-set. She dropped several of these articles just inside the door.
+"Come and help me pick up my sings," she commanded. "I've come to play
+wis loo, Daddie."
+
+Hugo did not move. He was fond of little Fay; he admired her good looks
+and her splendid health, but he didn't in the least desire her society
+just then.
+
+"Poor Daddie's tired," he said in his "saddest" tone. "I think you'd
+better go and play in the nursery with Tony."
+
+"No," said little Fay, "Tony's not zere; _loo_ mus' play wis me.
+Or"--she added as a happy alternative--"loo can tell me sumfin
+instastin."
+
+"Surely," said Hugo, "it's your bed-time?"
+
+"No," little Fay answered, and the letters were never formed that could
+express the finality of that "no," "Med will fesh me when it's time.
+I've come to play wis _loo_. Det up, Daddie; loo can't play p'oply lying
+zere."
+
+"Oh, yes, I can," Hugo protested eagerly. "You bring all your nice toys
+one by one and show them to me."
+
+"'At," she remarked with great scorn, "would be a velly stupid game. Det
+up!"
+
+"Why can't Meg play with you?" Hugo asked irritably. "What's she doing?"
+
+Little Fay stared at her father. She was unaccustomed to be addressed
+in that tone, and she resented it. Earley and Mr. Burgess were her
+humble slaves. Captain Middleton did as he was told and became an
+elephant, a camel, or a polar bear on the shortest notice, moreover he
+threw himself into the part with real goodwill and enjoyment. The lazy
+man lying there on the sofa, who showed no flattering pleasure in her
+society, must be roused to a sense of his shortcomings. She seized the
+Teddy-bear, swung it round her head and brought it down with a
+resounding thump on Hugo's chest. "Det up," she said more loudly. "Loo
+don't seem to know any stolies, so you _mus'_ play wis me."
+
+Hugo swung his legs off the sofa and sat up to recover his breath, which
+had been knocked out of him by the Teddy-bear.
+
+"You're a very rude little girl," he said crossly. "You'll have to be
+punished if you do that sort of thing."
+
+"What sort of sing?"
+
+"What you did just now; it's very naughty indeed."
+
+"What nelse?"
+
+Little Fay stood with her head on one side like an inquisitive sparrow.
+One of the things she had not dropped was the tin trumpet. She raised it
+to her lips now, and blew a blast that went through Hugo's head like a
+knife.
+
+He snatched it from her. "You're not to do that," he said. "I can't
+stand it. Go and pick up those other things and show them to me."
+
+"Loo can see zem from here."
+
+"Not what's in the box," he suggested diplomatically.
+
+"I'm tah'ed too," she said, suddenly sitting down on the floor. "You
+fesh 'em."
+
+"Will you play with them if I do?"
+
+She shook her head. "Not if loo're closs, and lude and naughty and ...
+stupid."
+
+Hugo groaned and stalked over to collect the two dolls and the
+tea-things. He brought them back and put them down on one end of the
+sofa while he sat down at the other.
+
+"Now," he said, "show me how you play with them."
+
+His cigar had gone out and he struck a match to light it again. Little
+Fay scrambled to her feet and blew it out before he had touched his
+cigar with it.
+
+"Adain," she said joyously. "Make anozer light."
+
+He struck another match, but sheltered it with his hand till he'd got
+his cigar going, his daughter blowing vigorously all the time.
+
+"Now," she said, "you can be a nengine and I'll be the tlain."
+
+Round that drawing-room the unfortunate Hugo ran, encouraged in his
+efforts by blasts upon the trumpet. The chairs were arranged as
+carriages, the dolls as passengers, and the box of tea-things was
+luggage. None of these transformations were suggested by Hugo, but
+little Fay had played the game so often under Meg's brilliant
+supervision that she knew all the properties by heart.
+
+At the end of fifteen minutes Hugo was thoroughly exhausted and audibly
+thanked God when Meg appeared to fetch her charge. But he hadn't
+finished even then, for little Fay, aided and abetted by Meg, insisted
+that every single thing should be tidily put back exactly where it was
+before.
+
+At the door, just as they were on the point of departure, Meg paused.
+"You must enjoy having her all to yourself for a little while," she said
+in honeyed, sympathetic tones such as Hugo, certainly, had never heard
+from her before. "I fear we've been rather selfish about it, but for the
+future we must not forget that you have the first right to her.... Did
+you kiss your dear Daddie, my darling?"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Through the shut door Hugo heard his daughter's voice proclaiming in
+lofty, pitying tones, "Pooah Daddie velly stupid man, he was a velly bad
+nengine, he did it all long."
+
+"Damn!" said Hugo Tancred.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+During dinner that night Jan talked continually about the children. She
+consulted Hugo as to things in which he took not the smallest interest,
+such as what primers he considered the best for earliest instruction in
+reading, and whether he thought the Montessori method advantageous or
+not.
+
+As they sat over dessert he volunteered the remark that little Fay was
+rather an exhausting child.
+
+"All children are," Jan answered, "and I've just been thinking that
+while you are here to help me, it would be such a good chance to give
+Meg a little holiday. She has not had a day off since I came back from
+India, and it would be so nice for her to go to Cheltenham for a few
+days to see Major Morton."
+
+"But surely," Hugo said uneasily, "that's what she's here for, to look
+after the children. She's very highly paid; you could get a good nurse
+for half what you pay her."
+
+"I doubt it, and you must remember that, because she loved Fay, she is
+accepting less than half of what she could earn elsewhere to help me
+with Fay's children."
+
+"Of course, if you import sentiment into the matter you must pay for
+it."
+
+"But I fear that's just what I don't do."
+
+"My dear Jan, you must forgive me if I venture to think that both you
+and your father, and even Fay, were quite absurd about Meg Morton. She's
+a nice enough little girl, but nothing so very wonderful, and as for her
+needing a holiday after a couple of months of the very soft job she has
+with you ... that's sheer nonsense."
+
+There was silence for a minute. Hugo took another chocolate and said,
+"You know I don't believe in having children all over the place. The
+nursery is the proper place for them when they're little, and school is
+the proper place--most certainly the proper place, anyway, for a boy--as
+soon as ever any school can be found to take him."
+
+"I quite agree with you as to the benefit of a good school," Jan said
+sweetly. "I am painfully conscious myself of how much I lost in never
+having had any regular education. Have you thought yet what preparatory
+school you'd prefer for Tony?"
+
+"Hardly yet. I've not been home long enough, and, as you know, at
+present, I've no money at all...."
+
+"I shall be most pleased to help with Tony's education, but in that case
+I should expect to have some voice in the school selected."
+
+"Certainly, certainly," Hugo agreed. "But what I really want to know is
+what you propose to do to help me to attain a position in which I _can_
+educate my children as we both should wish."
+
+"I don't quite see where I come in."
+
+"My dear Jan, that's absurd. You have money--and a few hundreds now will
+start me again...."
+
+"Start you again in what direction?"
+
+"That's what we've got to thresh out. I've several propositions to lay
+before you."
+
+"All propositions will have to be submitted to Mr. Davidson."
+
+"That's nonsense. You must remember that I could contest Fay's will if I
+liked--it was grossly unfair to leave that two thousand pounds away from
+me."
+
+"She left it to her children, Hugo, and _you_ must remember you spent
+eight thousand pounds of her money."
+
+"_I_ didn't spend it. Do you think _I_ benefited? The investments were
+unfortunate, I grant you, but that's not to say I had it."
+
+"Anyway that money is gone."
+
+"And the sooner I set about making some more to replace it the better,
+but I must have help."
+
+"It takes every penny of my income to run things here."
+
+"Well, you know, Jan, to be quite candid, I think it's rather ridiculous
+of you to live here. You could let this place easily and for a good
+rent. In a smaller house you'd be equally comfortable and in easier
+circumstances. I'm not at all sure I approve of my children being
+brought up with the false ideas they will inevitably acquire if they
+continue to live in a big place like this."
+
+"You see, Hugo, it happens to be my house, and I'm fond of it."
+
+"No doubt, but if you make a fetish of the house, if the house stands in
+the way of your helping your own flesh and blood...."
+
+"I don't think I've ever refused to help my _own_ relations."
+
+"Which means, I suppose, that your sister's husband is nothing to you."
+
+Jan rose. "You are rather unjust, I think," she said quietly. "I must
+put the children first."
+
+"And suppose you marry----"
+
+"I certainly wouldn't marry any man who would object to my doing all I
+could for my sister's children."
+
+"You think so now, but wait till a man comes along. You're just getting
+to the age, Jan, when a woman is most apt to make a fool of herself over
+a man. And, remember this, I'd much rather my children were brought up
+simply with my people in Guernsey than that they should grow up with all
+sorts of false ideas with nothing to back them."
+
+Jan clenched her teeth, and though outwardly she was silent, her soul
+was repeating, "I _will_ not fear," over and over again.
+
+"Perhaps you are right, Hugo," she said quietly. "You must arrange as
+you think best; only please remember that you can hardly expect me to
+contribute to the keeping of the children if I am allowed no voice in
+their upbringing. Have you consulted your parents as to their living
+with them in Guernsey? Shall we go out? It's such a beautiful evening."
+
+Hugo followed her into the hall and out into the garden. Involuntarily
+he looked after her with considerable admiration. She held herself well,
+that quiet woman. She waited for him in the drive, and as she did so
+Tony's words came back to her: "I used to feel frightened inside, but I
+wouldn't let him know it, and then--it was funny--but quite sunnly I
+wasn't frightened any more. You try it."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Jan had tried it, and, again to quote Tony, "it just happened."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIV
+
+"THE WAY OF A MAN WITH A MAID"
+
+
+Peter began to feel annoyed. More and more clearly did he realise that
+his chief object in coming home was to see Jan again; and here was he,
+still in London in the third week of June, and never so much as a
+glimpse of her.
+
+Her last letter, too, had postponed his visit indefinitely, and he
+almost thought she was not treating him quite fairly. It was, of course,
+a confounded bore that Hugo Tancred should have turned up just now, but
+Peter saw no reason for staying away for ever on that account. He knew
+Wren's End was a good-sized house, and though he appreciated Jan's
+understanding of the fact that he wouldn't exactly choose to be a
+fellow-guest with such a thoroughly bad hat as Hugo Tancred, still he
+considered it was laying too much stress upon the finer shades of
+feeling to keep him away so long.
+
+His aunt was delighted to have him; London was very pleasant; he had
+dined out quite a number of times, attended some big parties, seen all
+the best plays, and bought or ordered all the new clothes he needed, and
+a good deal that he didn't need at all. He had also bought a motor to
+take out with him. It was more than time to get within range of the main
+objective of his leave.
+
+Suggestions that Jan _must_ have shopping to do and might as well come
+up for a day or two to do it only elicited the reply that she had no
+money for shopping and that it was most unlikely that she would be in
+London again for ages.
+
+She hadn't answered his last letter, either, which was another
+grievance.
+
+Then came a letter with the Amber Guiting post-mark, and in a
+handwriting he did not know--a funny little, clear, square handwriting
+with character in every stroke.
+
+He opened it and read:
+
+      "DEAR MR. LEDGARD,
+
+      "It is just possible you may have heard of me from Mrs.
+      Tancred or Miss Ross, but in case you haven't I will
+      explain that I am nurse to the little Tancreds and that
+      Miss Ross is my dearest friend. I think it would be a very
+      good thing if you came down to see her, for her
+      brother-in-law is here, and I am never quite sure what he
+      might persuade her to do if he put the screw on about the
+      children. There is a comfortable inn called 'The Green
+      Hart,' and there's another called 'The Full Basket,' but I
+      fear you'd not get a room there as it's very small and
+      always chock-full at this time of year with fishing people.
+
+      "You see, if you came down to 'The Green Hart,' Jan
+      couldn't say anything, for you've a perfect right to stay
+      there if you choose, and I know it would help her and
+      strengthen her hands to talk things over with you. She has
+      spoken much of your kindness to them all in India.
+
+      "Do you fish, I wonder? I'm sure Squire Walcote would be
+      amiable to any friend of Jan's.
+
+                        "Believe me, yours truly,
+
+                                        "MARGARET MORTON."
+
+Peter put the letter in his pocket and left the rest of his
+correspondence till after breakfast, and his aunt decided that he really
+was a most amusing and agreeable companion, and that she must have been
+mistaken last night in thinking he seemed rather depressed and worried.
+
+After breakfast he went out to send a reply-paid telegram, and then to
+the garage, where he kept his car. Among other places he drove to "Hardy
+Brothers" in Pall Mall, where he stayed over an hour.
+
+By the time he got back to Artillery Mansions it was lunch time. More
+letters awaited him, also a telegram.
+
+During lunch he mentioned casually that he was going down into the
+country for the week-end to fish. He was going to motor down.
+
+"Yes," in answer to his aunt's inquiry, "I do know people down there,
+but I'm not going to stay with them. I'm going to the inn--one's freer,
+you know, and if the sport's good I may stay on a few days."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Mr. Withells came again for Hugo on Saturday morning and proposed a run
+right over to Cheltenham for a rose show. Hugo declined the rose show,
+but gratefully accepted the drive. He would potter about the town while
+Mr. Withells inspected the flowers. The Grange head-gardener had
+several exhibits, and was to be taken on the front seat.
+
+They started soon after breakfast and would be gone the whole day, for
+it was an hour and three-quarters run by road and two by train.
+
+"I wish he had offered to take you," Jan said to Meg when the big motor
+had vanished out of the drive. "It would have been so nice for you to
+see Major Morton."
+
+"And sit bodkin between Hugo and Mr. Withells or on one of those horrid
+little folding-seats--no, thank you! When I go to see my poor little
+papa I shall go by train by myself. I'll choose a day when their dear
+father can help you with the children."
+
+After lunch Meg began to find fault with Jan's appearance. "I simply
+won't see you in that old grey skirt a minute longer--go and put on a
+white frock--a nice white frock. You've got plenty."
+
+"Who is always grumbling about the washing? Besides, I want to garden."
+
+"You can't garden this afternoon. On such a lovely day it's your duty to
+dress in accordance with it. I'm going to clean up my children, and then
+we'll all go down to the post-office to buy stamps and show ourselves.
+_You_ ought to call on Lady Mary--you know you ought. Go and change, and
+then come and see if I approve of you. You might leave a card at the
+vicarage, too. I know they're going to the rose show, so you'd be quite
+safe."
+
+"You're a nuisance, Meg," Jan complained. "Let you and little Fay go
+swanking down the village if you like, but why can't you leave Tony and
+me to potter comfortably in our old clothes?"
+
+"I'm tired of your old clothes; I want you to look decent for once. You
+haven't done anything I asked you for ages. You might as well do this."
+
+Jan sighed. "It seems rather absurd when you yourself say every soul we
+know will be at the flower show."
+
+"I never said anything of the kind. I said Mrs. Fream was going to the
+flower show. Hurry up, Jan."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"Well, will I do? Will I satisfy the hedges and ditches, do you think?"
+Jan asked later, as she appeared in the hall clad in the white raiment
+Meg had commanded.
+
+Meg turned her round. "Very nice indeed," she said. "I'm glad you put on
+the expensive one. It's funny why the very plain things cost such a lot.
+I like the black hat with your white hair. Yes, I consent to take you
+out; I don't mind owning you for my missus. Children, come and admire
+Auntie Jan."
+
+Jan dutifully delivered a card at the vicarage, and the nursery party
+left her to walk up the Manor drive alone. Lady Mary was in, and pleased
+to see her, but she only stayed a quarter of an hour, because Meg had
+made her promise to meet them again in the village. They were to have
+tea in the garden with the children and make it a little festival.
+
+What a funny little thing Meg was, she thought as she strolled down the
+drive under the splendid beeches. So determined to have her own way in
+small things, such an incarnation of self-sacrifice in big ones.
+
+A man was standing just outside the great gates in a patch of black
+shade thrown by a holly-tree in the lodge garden. Jan was long-sighted,
+and something in the figure and its pose caused her to stop suddenly. He
+wore the usual grey summer suit and a straw hat. Yet he reminded her of
+somebody, but him she had always seen in a topee, out of doors.
+
+Of course it was only a resemblance--but what was he waiting there for?
+
+He moved out from the patch of shade and looked up the drive through the
+open gates. He took off his hat and waved it, and came quickly towards
+her.
+
+"I couldn't wait any longer," he said. "I won't be the least bit of a
+nuisance. I've come to fish, and I'm staying at 'The Green Hart'.... And
+how are you?"
+
+She could never make it out, when she thought it over afterwards, but
+Jan found herself standing with both her hands in his and her beautiful
+black parasol tumbled unheeded in the dust.
+
+"I happened to meet the children and Miss Morton, and they asked me to
+tell you they've gone home. They also invited me to tea."
+
+"So do I," said Jan.
+
+"I should hardly have known Tony," he continued; "he looks capital. And
+as for little Fay--she's a picture, but she always was."
+
+"Did they know you?"
+
+"_Did_ they know me!"
+
+"Were they awfully pleased?"
+
+"They were ever so jolly; even Tony shouted."
+
+At the lodge they met the Squire. Jan introduced Peter and explained
+that he had just come down for a few days' fishing and was staying at
+"The Green Hart." The Squire proffered advice as to the best flies and a
+warning that he must not hope for much sport. The Amber was a difficult
+river, very; and variable; and it had been a particularly dry June.
+
+Peter bore up under this depressing intelligence and he and Jan walked
+on through warm, scented lanes to Wren's End; and Peter looked at Jan a
+good deal.
+
+Those who happened to be in London during the season of 1914 will
+remember that it was a period of powder and paint and frankest
+touching-up of complexions. The young and pretty were blackened and
+whitened and reddened quite as crudely as the old and ugly. There was no
+attempt at concealment. The faces of many Mayfair ladies filled Peter
+with disrespectful astonishment. He had not been home for four years,
+and then nice girls didn't do that sort of thing--much.
+
+Now one of Jan's best points was her complexion; it was so fair and
+fresh. The touch of sunburn, too, was becoming, for she didn't freckle.
+
+Peter found himself positively thankful to behold a really clean face;
+a face, too, that just then positively beamed with warm welcome and
+frank pleasure.
+
+A clean face; a cool, clean frock; kind, candid eyes and a gentle,
+sincere voice--yes, they were all there just as he remembered them, just
+as he had so often dreamt of them. Moreover, he decided there and then
+that the Georgian ladies knew what they were about when they powdered
+their hair--white hair, he thought, was extraordinarily becoming to a
+woman.
+
+"You are looking better than when I was in Bombay. I think your leave
+must have done you good already," said the kind, friendly voice.
+
+"I need a spell of country air, really to set me up," said Peter.
+
+They had an hilarious tea with the children on the Wren's lawn, and the
+tamest of the robins hopped about on the step just to show that he
+didn't care a fig for any of them.
+
+Meg was just going to take the children to bed when Mr. Withells brought
+Hugo back. It was an awkward moment. Peter knew far too much about Hugo
+to simulate the smallest cordiality; and Hugo was too well aware of some
+of the things Peter knew to feel at all comfortable in his presence. But
+he had no intention of giving way an inch. He took the chair Meg had
+just vacated and sat down. Mr. Withells, too, sat down for a few
+minutes, and no sooner had he done so than William dashed out from
+amongst them, and, returning, was accompanied by Captain Middleton.
+
+"No tea, thank you. Just got down from town, came with a message from
+my uncle--would Miss Ross's friend care for a rod on the Manor water on
+Monday? A brother officer who had been coming had failed at the last
+minute--there was room for four rods, but there wasn't a chance of much
+sport."
+
+Miles was introduced to Peter and sat down by him. The children rushed
+at Miles and, ably impeded by William, swarmed over him in riotous
+welcome, wholly regardless of their nurse's voice which summoned them to
+bed.
+
+Meg stood waiting.
+
+"Miss Morton's father lives in Cheltenham," Jan said to Mr. Withells,
+who seemed rather left out. "She's going to see him on Tuesday--to spend
+the day."
+
+"Then," said Mr. Withells in his clear staccato, "she must take the
+9.15--it's much the best train in the day. And the 4.55 back. No other
+trains are at all suitable. I hope you will be guided by me in this
+matter, Miss Morton. I've made the journey many times."
+
+So had Meg; but Mr. Withells always irritated her to such an extent that
+had it been possible, she would have declared her intention to go and
+return by quite different trains. As it was, she nodded pleasantly and
+said those were the very trains she had selected.
+
+Miles thrust his head out from among the encompassing three and
+respectfully implored Mr. Withells' advice about trains to Cricklade,
+which lay off the Cheltenham route, even going so far as to note the
+hours of departure and arrival carefully in a little book.
+
+Finally Meg came and disencumbered Miles of the children and bore them
+away.
+
+When her voice took on a certain tone it was as useless to cope with Meg
+as with Auntie Jan. They knew this, and like wise children gave in
+gracefully.
+
+Elaborate farewells had to be said to everybody, and with a final warm
+embrace for Miles, little Fay called to him "Tum and see me in my baff."
+
+"Captain Middleton will have gone long before you are ready for that,"
+Meg said inhospitably, and trying to look very tall and dignified she
+walked up the three steps leading to the nursery. But it is almost
+impossible to look imposing with a lagging child dragging at each hand,
+and poor Meg felt that her exit was far from effective.
+
+William settled himself comfortably across his master's knees and in two
+minutes was snoring softly.
+
+Miles manifested so keen an interest in Mr. Withells' exhibits (he had
+got a second prize and a highly commended) that the kindly little man
+was quite attracted; and when Miles inquired about trains to Cheltenham
+he gave him precisely the same advice that he had given Meg.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The station at Amber Guiting is seldom crowded; it's on a shuttle line,
+and except on market-day there is but little passenger traffic.
+
+Therefore a small young lady with rather conspicuously red hair, a neat
+grey coat and skirt, a shady grey straw hat trimmed with white clover
+and green leaves, and a green parasol, was noticeable upon the platform
+out of all proportion to her size.
+
+The train was waiting. The lady entered an empty third-class carriage,
+and sitting in the corner with her back to the engine, shut herself in.
+The train departed punctually, and she took out from her bag a note-book
+which she studied with frowning concentration.
+
+Ten minutes further down the line the train stops again at Guiting
+Green, and here the young lady looked out of the window to see whether
+anyone was travelling that she recognised.
+
+There was. But it was impossible to judge from the young lady's
+expression whether the recognition gave her pleasure or not.
+
+She drew in her head very quickly, but not before she had been seen.
+
+"Hullo, Miss Morton! Where are you going? May I get in here?"
+
+"Aren't you travelling first?"
+
+"Not a bit of it. Sure you don't mind? How jolly to have met you!"
+
+Miles looked so smiling, so big and well turned out, and pleased with
+life, that Meg's severe expression relaxed somewhat.
+
+"I suppose," she said, "you're just going to the junction. But why come
+to Guiting Green?"
+
+"I came to Guiting Green because it's exactly four miles from the Manor
+House. And I've walked those four miles, Miss Morton, walked 'em for
+the good of my health. Wish it wasn't so dusty, though--look at my
+boots! _I'm_ going to Cheltenham. Where are you going?"
+
+"Cheltenham?" Meg repeated suspiciously. "What are you going to do
+there?"
+
+"I'm going to see about a horse--not a dog this time--I hear that
+Smith's have got a horse that may suit me; really up to my weight they
+say it is, so I took the chance of going over while I'm with my
+uncle--it's a lot nearer than town, you know. But where are _you_
+going?"
+
+"I," said Meg, "am going to Cheltenham----"
+
+"To Cheltenham!" Miles exclaimed in rather overdone astonishment. "What
+an extraordinary coincidence! And what are _you_ going to buy in
+Cheltenham?"
+
+"I am going to see my father. I thought I had told you he lives there."
+
+"So you did, of course. How stupid of me to forget! Well, it's very
+jolly we should happen to be going down together, isn't it?"
+
+They looked at one another, and Miles laughed.
+
+"I'm not at all sure that we ought to travel together after we reach the
+junction, and I don't believe you've got a third-class ticket." Meg
+looked very prim.
+
+Miles produced his ticket--it _was_ third-class.
+
+"There!" he said triumphantly.
+
+"You would be much more comfortable in a smoker."
+
+"So would you. We'll take a smoker; I've got the sort of cigarette you
+like."
+
+At the junction they got a smoker, and Miles saw to it that they had it
+to themselves; he also persuaded the guard to give Meg a square wooden
+box to put her feet on, because he thought the seats were too high for
+her.
+
+It seemed a very short journey.
+
+Major Morton was awaiting Meg when they arrived; a little gentleman
+immaculately neat (it was quite clear whence Meg got her love of detail
+and finish)--who looked both washed-out and dried-up. He embraced her
+with considerable solemnity, exclaiming, "God bless you, my dear child!
+You look better than I expected."
+
+"Papa, dear, here is Captain Middleton, a friend from Amber Guiting. We
+happened to travel together."
+
+"Pleased to meet you, sir," said the little Major graciously; and
+somehow Miles contrived in two minutes so to ingratiate himself with
+Meg's "poor little papa" that they all walked out of the station
+together as a matter of course.
+
+Then came the question of plans.
+
+Meg had shopping to do, declared she had a list as long as her arm, but
+was entirely at her father's disposal as to whether she should do it
+before or after lunch.
+
+Miles boldly suggested she should do it now, at once, while it was still
+fairly cool, and then she could have all her parcels sent to the station
+to meet her. He seemed quite eager to get rid of Meg. The little Major
+agreed that this would be the best course. He would stroll round to his
+club while Meg was shopping, and meet her when she thought she would
+have finished. They walked to the promenade and dropped her at Cavendish
+House. Miles, explaining that he had to go to Smith's to look at a
+horse, asked for directions from the Major. Their way was the same, and
+without so much as bidding her farewell, Miles strolled up one of the
+prettiest promenades in England in company with her father. Meg felt
+rather dazed.
+
+She prided herself on having reduced shopping to a fine art, but to-day,
+somehow, she didn't get through as quickly as usual, and there was a
+number of items on her list still unticked when it was time to meet her
+father just outside his club at the top of the promenade.
+
+Major Morton was the essence of punctuality. Meg flew to meet him, and
+found he had waited five minutes. He was not, however, upset, as might
+have been expected. He took her to his rooms in a quiet terrace behind
+the promenade and comfortably near his club. The sun-blinds were down
+outside his sitting-room windows, and the room seemed cool and pleasant.
+
+Then it was that Meg discovered that her father was looking at her in
+quite a new way. Almost, in fact, as though he had never seen her
+before.
+
+Was it her short hair? she wondered.
+
+Yet that was not very noticeable under such a shady hat.
+
+Major Morton had vigorously opposed the nursemaid scheme. To the
+sympathetic ladies who attended the same strictly evangelical church of
+which he was a pillar, he confided that his only daughter did not care
+for "a quiet domestic life." It was a grief to him--but, after all,
+parents are shelved nowadays; every girl wants to "live her own life,"
+and he would be the last man to stand in the way of his child's
+happiness. The ladies felt very sorry for Major Morton and indignant
+with the hard-hearted, unfilial Meg. They did not realise that had Meg
+lived with her father--in rooms--and earned nothing, the Major's
+delicate digestion might occasionally have suffered, and Meg would
+undoubtedly have been half-starved.
+
+To-day, however, he was more hopeful about Meg than he had been for a
+long time. Since the Trent episode he had ceased even to imagine her
+possible marriage. By her own headstrong folly she had ruined all her
+chances. "The weariful rich" who had got her the post did not spare him
+this aspect of her deplorable conduct. To-day, however, there was a rift
+in these dark clouds of consequence.
+
+Captain Middleton--he only knows how--had persuaded Major Morton to go
+with him to see the horse, had asked his quite useless advice, and had
+subtly and insidiously conveyed to the Major, without one single
+incriminating sentence, a very clear idea as to his own feelings for the
+Major's daughter.
+
+Major Morton felt cheered.
+
+He had no idea who Miles really was, but he had remarked the gunner tie,
+and, asking to what part of the Royal Regiment Miles belonged, decided
+that no mere pauper could be a Horse-Gunner.
+
+He regarded his daughter with new eyes.
+
+She was undoubtedly attractive. He discovered certain resemblances to
+himself that he had never noticed before.
+
+Then he informed her that he had promised they would both lunch with her
+agreeable friend at the Queen's Hotel: "He made such a point of it,"
+said Major Morton, "I could hardly refuse; begged us to take pity on his
+loneliness, and so on--and I'm feeling rather better to-day."
+
+Meg decided that the tide of fate was too strong for her, she must just
+drift with it.
+
+It was a most pleasant lunch, save for one incident. Lady Penelope
+Pottinger and her husband, accompanied by Lottie Trent and a man, were
+lunching at another table.
+
+Lady Penelope's party came in late. Miles and his guests had already
+arrived at coffee when they appeared.
+
+They had to pass Miles' table, and Lady Penelope stopped; so did her
+husband. She shook hands with Meg. Miss Trent passed by with her nose in
+the air.
+
+Miles presented his relations to the Major and they passed on.
+
+The Major was quite pleased and rather flattered. He had no idea that
+the tall young woman with Lady Penelope had deliberately cut his host.
+But Meg knew just why she had done it.
+
+After lunch Miles very properly effaced himself, but made a point of
+asking the Major if he might act as Miss Morton's escort on the journey
+back to Amber Guiting.
+
+The Major graciously accompanied Meg while she did the rest of her
+shopping, and in the promenade they met the Pottinger party again.
+
+The 4.55 was crowded. Miles collected Meg's parcels and suggested to the
+Major that it would be less tiring for his daughter if they returned
+first-class. Should he change the tickets?
+
+The Major thought it a sensible proposition, especially with all those
+parcels. Meg would pay Captain Middleton the difference.
+
+Again an amiable porter secured them an empty carriage. The parcels
+spread themselves luxuriously upon the unoccupied seats. The Major
+kissed his daughter and gave her his benediction, shaking hands quite
+warmly with her "pleasant young friend."
+
+The 4.55 runs right up to the junction without a stop. Meg took off her
+best hat and placed it carefully in the rack. She leaned her bewildered
+head against the cushions and closed her eyes. She would drift with the
+tide just a few minutes more, and then----
+
+Miles put a box of groceries for Lady Mary under her feet. She smiled
+faintly, but did not speak.
+
+Presently she opened her eyes to find him regarding her with that
+expression she had surprised once or twice before, and never understood.
+
+"Tired?" he asked.
+
+"Only pleasantly. I think I've only travelled first-class about five
+times in my life before--and then it was with Mr. Ross."
+
+"And now it's with me, and I hope it's the first of many."
+
+"You say very odd things."
+
+"What I mean isn't in the least odd--it's the most natural thing in the
+world."
+
+"What is?"
+
+"To want to go on travelling with you."
+
+"If you're going to talk nonsense, I shall go to sleep again."
+
+"No, I don't think I can allow you to go to sleep. I want you to wake up
+and face facts."
+
+"Facts?"
+
+"A fact."
+
+"Facts are sometimes very unpleasant."
+
+"I hope the fact I want you to face isn't exactly that--if it is ...
+then I'm ... a jolly miserable chap. Miss Morton--Meg--you must see how
+it is with me--you must know that you're dearer to me than anything on
+earth. I think your father tumbled to it--and I don't think he minded
+... that I should want you for my wife."
+
+"My poor little papa would be relieved to think that anyone could...."
+
+"Could what?"
+
+"Care for me ... in that way."
+
+"Nonsense! But I'm exceedingly glad to have met your father."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"Because I wanted to meet him."
+
+"Again, why?"
+
+"Because he's your father."
+
+"Did you observe that Miss Lotty Trent cut you dead at the Queen's
+to-day?"
+
+"I did notice it, and, like you, I wonder why."
+
+"I can tell you."
+
+"I don't think you'd better bother. Miss Trent's opinion of me really
+doesn't matter----"
+
+"It was because you were with me."
+
+"But what a silly reason--if it is a reason."
+
+"Captain Middleton, will you answer a question quite truthfully?"
+
+"I'll try."
+
+"What have you heard about me in connection with the Trents?"
+
+"Not much, and that I don't believe."
+
+"But you must believe it, some of it. It may not be so bad--as it might
+have been--but I put myself entirely in the wrong. I deceived Mrs. Trent
+and I did a thing no girl in her senses ought to have done."
+
+"Look here, Meg," said Miles, leaning forward. "I don't want to know
+anything you don't choose to tell me; but since you _are_ on the
+subject--what did happen between you and that ... and Walter Brooke?"
+
+Meg, too, leant forward; the express swayed and lurched. Their faces
+were very near; their eyes met and held each other in a long, searching
+gaze on the one side and an answering look of absolute candour on the
+other.
+
+"I promised to go away with him, and I went away a few miles, and
+something came over me that I couldn't go any further, and I broke my
+promise and ran away. Jan knows it's true, for it was to them I went.
+But the Trents would never believe it, though Mr. Ross saw Mrs. Trent
+herself, and told her exactly what had happened. And I daresay ... they
+are quite justified."
+
+"And how many times have you seen him since?"
+
+"Never till the other day, when he nearly ran over William."
+
+"And how long ago is it since all this happened?"
+
+"Nearly six years."
+
+"Don't you think it's about time you put it all out of your mind?"
+
+"I had put it out of my mind ... till ... you came."
+
+"It didn't make any difference to me."
+
+"I shall never forget that," Meg said, so low that the rattle of the
+train wholly drowned her remark, but it couldn't conceal her smile.
+
+Miles lost his head. He kneeled down plump on the floor of that
+compartment and took her in his arms and kissed her.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"All the same, I don't believe I can marry you," she said later.
+
+"Why on earth not?"
+
+"Because I don't think I'm a suitable wife for you."
+
+"Surely I'm the best judge of that."
+
+"No, you're not a judge at all. You think you're in love with me...."
+
+"I'm hanged if I do--I _know_."
+
+"Because you're sorry for me----"
+
+"On the contrary, I'm sorry for myself. I think you're a hard-hearted
+... obstinate ... little...."
+
+Mr. Withells would have been scandalised at the conduct of Miles. He
+would undoubtedly have described it as both "insanitary and improper."
+
+"Oh, please listen!" Meg gasped. "Perhaps a long time hence ... if
+you're still of the same mind...."
+
+"Anyway, may I tell people?"
+
+"Not a soul. I won't have my Jan worried just now. I've undertaken those
+children ... and she's having a bad time with that brother-in-law----"
+
+"I say, Meg, what is it about that chap Tancred? I can't stick him....
+Is he a bad egg, or what?"
+
+"He is...."
+
+"Poor Miss Ross! But why does she have him there?"
+
+"Oh, it's a long story--and here we are at the junction, and I'm not
+going on first to Amber Guiting--so there!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Jan in the pony-cart was waiting outside when Meg came from the little
+station. Captain Middleton followed in her train, laden with parcels
+like a Father Christmas.
+
+He packed her and the parcels in, covered both the ladies with the
+dust-holland, announced that he had bought a charger, and waited to get
+into the Manor motor till they had driven out of the station.
+
+They neither of them spoke till they had turned into the road. Then Jan
+quoted softly: "When I go to see my poor little papa, I shall go by
+train _by myself_."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXV
+
+A DEMONSTRATION IN FORCE
+
+
+Hugo was dissatisfied. So far, beyond a miserable ten pounds to buy some
+clothes, he had got no money out of Jan; and he was getting bored.
+
+To be sure, he still had most of the ten pounds, for he had gone and
+ordered everything in the market-town, where the name of Ross was
+considered safe as the Bank of England. So he hadn't paid for anything.
+
+Then there was that fellow Ledgard--what did he want hanging about,
+pretending to fish? He was after Jan and her money, that was his game.
+
+But however clear Peter Ledgard's nefarious intentions might be, Hugo
+confessed his sister-in-law puzzled him. She wasn't nearly as much
+afraid of him as he had expected. She was always gentle and courteous,
+but under the soft exterior he had occasionally felt a rock of
+determination, that was disconcerting.
+
+He had ceased to harp upon the string of his desolation. Somehow Jan
+contrived to show him that she didn't believe in it, and yet she never
+said one word to which he could take exception.
+
+It was awkward that his own people were all of them so unsympathetic
+about the children. His father and mother declared themselves to be too
+old to undertake them unless Hugo could pay liberally for their board
+and for a thoroughly capable nurse. Neither of his sisters would
+entertain the idea at all; and both wrote pointing out that until Hugo
+was able to make a home for them himself, he would be most foolish to
+interfere with the arrangements of a devoted aunt who appeared not only
+willing but anxious to assume their entire maintenance.
+
+He had told his people that his health forced him to relinquish his work
+in India. His brothers-in-law, although they had no idea of the real
+cause, thought there was something fishy about this, and were
+unsympathetic.
+
+Peter got at the doctor, and the doctor declared sea-air to be the one
+thing necessary to insure Hugo's complete restoration to health. Jan
+happened to mention that her brother-in-law's people lived in Guernsey,
+close to the shore. The doctor said he couldn't do better than go and
+stay with them, and that the journey wouldn't hurt him a bit.
+
+Still Hugo appeared reluctant to leave Wren's End.
+
+Peter came one day and demanded a business talk with him. It was a most
+unpleasant conversation. Peter declared on Jan's behalf that she was
+quite ready to help him to some new start in life, but that if it meant
+a partnership in any rubber plantation, fruit-farm, or business of any
+sort whatsoever, the money required must be paid through her lawyer
+directly into the hands of the planter, farmer, or merchant concerned.
+
+Hugo declared such an offer to be an insult. Peter replied that it was
+a great deal better than he deserved or could expect; and that he,
+personally, thought Miss Ross very silly to make it; but she did make
+it, and attached to its acceptance was a clause to the effect that until
+he could show he was in a position to maintain his family in comfort, he
+was to give their aunt an undertaking that he would not interfere with
+her arrangements for the welfare of the children.
+
+"I see no reason," said Hugo, "why you should interfere between my
+sister-in-law and me, but, of course, any fool could see what you're
+after. _You_ want her money, and when you've married her, I suppose my
+poor children are to be thrown out into the street, and me too far off
+to see after them."
+
+"Up to now," Peter retorted, "you have shown no particular desire to
+'see after' your children. Why are you such a fool, Tancred? Why don't
+you thankfully accept Miss Ross's generous offer, and try to make a
+fresh start?"
+
+"It's no business of yours what I do."
+
+"Certainly not, but your sister-in-law's peace and happiness is my
+business, because I have the greatest admiration, respect and liking for
+her."
+
+"_Les beaux yeux de sa cassette_," growled Hugo.
+
+"You _are_ an ass," Peter said wearily. "And you know very little of
+Miss Ross if you haven't seen by this time ..." Peter stopped.
+
+"Well, go on."
+
+"No," said Peter, "I won't go on, for it's running my horses on a rock.
+Think it over, that's all. But remember the offer does not remain open
+indefinitely."
+
+"Well, and if I choose to refuse it and go to law and _take_ my
+children--what then?"
+
+"No court in England would give you their custody."
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"Because you couldn't show means to support them, and we could produce
+witnesses to prove that you are not a fit person to have the custody of
+children."
+
+"We should see about that."
+
+"Well, think it over. It's your affair, you know." And Peter went away,
+leaving Hugo to curse and bite his nails in impotent rage. Peter really
+was far from conciliatory.
+
+Jan needed a fright, Hugo decided; that's what she wanted to bring her
+to heel. And before very long he'd see that she got it. She shouldn't
+shelter herself for ever behind that supercilious beast, Ledgard. Hugo
+was quite ready to have been pleasant to Jan and to have met her more
+than half-way if she was reasonable, but since she had chosen to bring
+Ledgard into it, she should pay. After all, she was only a woman, and
+you can always frighten a woman if you go the right way about it. It was
+damned bad luck that Ledgard should have turned up just now. It was
+Ledgard he'd got to thank that Fay had made that infamously unjust will
+by which she left the remnant of her money to her children and not to
+her husband. Oh yes! he'd a lot to thank Ledgard for. Well, he wouldn't
+like it when Jan got hurt. Ledgard was odd about women. He couldn't
+bear to see them worried; he couldn't bear to see Fay worried,
+interfered then. A blank, blank, blank interfering chap, Ledgard was.
+_What Jan needed was a real good scare._
+
+They suggested Guernsey. Well, he'd go to Guernsey, and he wouldn't go
+alone. Hugo thoroughly enjoyed a plot. The twilight world that had been
+so difficult and perplexing to poor Fay had for him a sort of exciting
+charm. Wren's End had become dreadfully dull. For the first week or two,
+while he felt so ill, it had been restful. Now its regular hours and
+ordered tranquillity were getting on his nerves. All those portraits of
+his wife, too, worried him. He could go into no room where the lovely
+face, with youth's wistful wonder as to what life held, did not confront
+him with a reminder that the wife he had left to die in Bombay did not
+look in the least like that.
+
+There were few things in his life save miscalculation that he regretted.
+But he did feel uncomfortable when he remembered Fay--so trustful
+always, so ready to help him in any difficulty. People liked her; even
+women liked her in spite of her good looks, and Hugo had found the world
+a hard, unfriendly place since her death.
+
+The whole thing was getting on his nerves. It was time to shuffle the
+cards and have a new deal.
+
+He packed his suit-case which had been so empty when he arrived, and
+waited for a day when Peter had taken Jan, Meg and the children for a
+motor run to a neighbouring town. He took care to see that Earley was
+duly busy in the kitchen garden, and the maids safely at the back of the
+house. Then he carried it to the lodge gate himself and waited for a
+passing tradesman's cart. Fortune favoured him; the butcher came up with
+(had Hugo known it) veal cutlets for Hugo's own dinner. Hugo tipped the
+butcher and asked him to leave the suit-case at the station to be sent
+on as carted luggage to its address.
+
+Next morning he learned that Tony was to go with Earley to fetch extra
+cream from Mr. Burgess' farm.
+
+It was unfortunate that he couldn't get any of Tony's clothes without
+causing comment. He had tried the day before, but beyond a jersey and
+two little vests (which happened to be little Fay's), he had been unable
+to find anything. Well, Jan would be glad enough to send Tony's clothes
+when he let her know where they were to be sent. Tony had changed a good
+deal from the silent, solemn child he had disliked in India. He was
+franker and more talkative. Sometimes Hugo felt that the child wasn't
+such a bad little chap, after all. But the very evident understanding
+between Jan and Tony filled Hugo with a dull sort of jealousy. He had
+never tried to win the child, but nevertheless he resented the fact that
+Tony's attitude to Jan and Meg was one of perfect trust and
+friendliness. He never looked at them with the strange judging, weighing
+look that Hugo hated so heartily.
+
+He strolled into the drive and waited. Meg and Jan were busy in the
+day-nursery, making the little garments that were outgrown so fast.
+Little Fay was playing on the Wren's lawn and singing to herself:
+
+    The fox went out one moonlight night,
+    And he played to the moon to give him light,
+    For he had a long way to tlot that night
+    Before he could leach his den-oh.
+
+Hugo listened for a minute. What a clear voice the child had. He would
+like to have taken little Fay, but already he stood in wholesome awe of
+his daughter. She could use her thoroughly sound lungs for other
+purposes than song, and she hadn't the smallest scruple about drawing
+universal attention to any grievance. Now Tony would never make a scene.
+Hugo recognised and admired that quality in his queer little son. He did
+not know that Tony already ruled his little life by a categorical
+imperative of things a sahib must not do.
+
+At the drive gate he met Earley carrying the can of cream, with Tony
+trotting by his side.
+
+"I'm going into the village, Tony, and Auntie Jan says you may as well
+come with me for company. Will you come?"
+
+Tony looked dubious. Still, he remembered that Auntie Jan had said he
+must try and be kind to poor Daddie, who had been so ill and was so sad.
+
+"All right," he said with a little sigh, and took the hand Hugo held
+out.
+
+"He'll be quite safe with me, Earley," Hugo said with a pleasant smile.
+"Miss Ross knows I'm going to take him."
+
+Nevertheless Earley went to the back door and asked Hannah to inform her
+mistress that "Mr. Tancred had taken Mazter Tony along of 'im."
+
+Hannah was busy, and serene in her conception of Hugo as the sorrowing
+widower, did not think the fact that Tony had gone for a walk with his
+own father was worth a journey to the day-nursery.
+
+"How would you like a ride down to the junction?" Hugo said. "I believe
+we could just catch a train if we take the omnibus at 'The Green Hart.'
+I want to make inquiries about something for Auntie Jan."
+
+Tony loved trains; he had only been twice to the junction since he came
+to Wren's End; it was a fascinating place. Daddie seemed in an agreeable
+mood this morning. Auntie Jan would be pleased that he should be nice to
+him.
+
+It all fell out as if the fates had arranged things for Hugo. They saw
+very few people in the village; only one old woman accompanied them in
+the bus; he heard his father ask for a ticket to the junction, and they
+arrived without incident of any kind.
+
+The junction, however, was busy. There were quite a lot of people, and
+when Hugo went to the ticket-office he had to stand in a queue of others
+while Tony waited outside the long row.
+
+Suddenly Tony began to wonder why his father should go to the
+ticket-office at all to inquire for a parcel. Tony was observant, and
+just because everything was so different from things in India small
+incidents were impressed upon his mind. If his father was going on
+anywhere else, he wasn't going; for Peter had promised to take them out
+in his car again that afternoon. When Hugo reached the window of the
+ticket-office Tony heard something about Paddington.
+
+That decided him. Nothing would induce him to go to Paddington.
+
+He pushed his way among the crowd and ran for dear life up the stairs,
+and over the bridge to the other platform where the train for Amber
+Guiting was still waiting, lonely and deserted. He knew that train. It
+went up and down all day, for Amber Guiting was the terminus. No one was
+on the platform as he ran along. With the sure instinct of the hunted he
+passed the carriages with their shut doors. Right at the end was a van
+with empty milk-cans. He had seen a porter putting them in the moment
+the train stopped. Tony darted into the van and crouched down between
+the milk-cans and the wall. He thought of getting into one of them. The
+story of Morgiana and the Forty Thieves was clear in his mind, for Meg
+had told it to them the night before. But the cans were so high and
+narrow he decided that it was impossible. Someone slammed the door of
+the van. There came a bump and a jar, and the train moved out onto a
+siding till it should go back to Amber Guiting when the 1.30 from London
+came in. Tony sat quite still in the dark, stuffy van. His little heart
+was beating with hammer strokes against his ribs, but his face expressed
+nothing but scorn.
+
+Again his father had lied to him. Again he had said he was going to do
+one thing when he fully intended to do another. The pleasantness, the
+kindliness, the apparent desire for Tony's society were a cheat. Tony
+spoke rapidly to himself in Hindustani, and by the time he had finished
+expressing his views Hugo Tancred hadn't a shred of character left.
+
+He didn't know when the train would go back to Amber Guiting. It might
+not be till evening. Tony could wait. Some time it would go back, and
+once in that dear, safe place all would be well.
+
+He disliked the sound of Paddington; it had to do with London, he knew.
+He didn't mind London, but he wasn't going there with his father, and no
+Meg and no Jan and no little Fay and no kind sahibs who were _real_
+sahibs.
+
+He was very hungry, and his eyes grew a bit misty as he thought of
+little Fay consuming scones and milk at the "elevens" Meg was always so
+careful they should have.
+
+A new and troubling thought perturbed him. Did Auntie Jan know he had
+gone at all? Would she be frightened? Would she get that look on her
+dear face that he couldn't bear to see? That Auntie Jan loved them both
+with her whole heart was now one of the fixed stars in Tony's firmament
+of beliefs. He began to think that perhaps it would be better for Auntie
+Jan to give his father some of her twinkly things and let him go away
+and leave them in peace; but he dismissed that thought as cowardly and
+unworthy of a sahib.
+
+Oh, dear! it was very long sitting in the dark, scrunched up behind
+those cans. He must tell himself stories to pass the time; and he
+started to relate the interminable legend of Cocky-locky and Henny-Penny
+who by their superior subtlety evaded the snares set for them by
+Toddy-Loddy the fox. He felt a sort of kinship with those harried fowls.
+Gradually the constant repetition of the various other birds involved,
+"Juckie-Puckie, Goosie-Loosie, Turkey-lurkey and Swannie-Lonnie," had a
+soothing effect, and Tony fell asleep.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Meanwhile Hugo had hunted through every corner of the four platforms; he
+had even gone to look for the Amber Guiting train, but was told it
+always was moved on to a siding directly it had discharged its
+passengers.
+
+It was mysterious, it was profoundly annoying, but it was not, to Hugo,
+alarming. He suspected that Peter Ledgard was in some way mixed up in
+it; that he, himself, had been shadowed and that Peter had stolen Tony
+in the crowd. In his mistrustful wrath he endowed Peter with such
+abnormal foresight and acumen as he certainly did not possess.
+
+It really was an impossible situation. Hugo could not go about asking
+porters and people for a lost child, or the neighbourhood would be
+roused. He couldn't go back to Wren's End without Tony, or there would
+be the devil to pay. He even got a porter to look in every carriage of
+the side-tracked train for a mythical despatch-case, and accompanied him
+in his search. Naturally they didn't seek a despatch-case in the van.
+
+He had lost his train, but there was another, very slow, about
+three-quarters of an hour later, and this he decided to take. He would
+telegraph to Jan from London. Somehow he was not in the least concerned
+about the fate of Tony. Peter and Peter's car had something to do with
+this mysterious disappearance. He was sure of that.
+
+Well, if this particular deal had failed, he must shuffle the cards and
+deal again. In any case Jan should see that where his children were
+concerned he was not to be trifled with.
+
+He was sorry, though, he had bought the half-ticket for Tony, and to ask
+them to take it back might cause comment.
+
+As the slow train steamed out from the junction Hugo felt a very
+ill-used man.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+At eleven o'clock Anne Chitt brought in the tray with two cups of milk
+and a plate of Hannah's excellent scones.
+
+"Please go into the kitchen garden and ask Master Tony to come for his
+lunch," Jan said.
+
+Presently Anne returned. "Master Tony ain't in the garden, miss; and
+'Annah says as 'e most likely ain't back yet, miss."
+
+"Back! Back from where?"
+
+"Please, miss, 'Annah says as 'is pa've took him with him down the
+village."
+
+Jan laid her sewing on the table and got up.
+
+"Is Earley in the garden?"
+
+"Yes, miss. I ast Earley an' 'e says the same as 'Annah. Mr. Tancred
+'ave took Master Tony with 'im."
+
+Anne went away, and Jan and Meg, who had stopped her machining to
+listen, stared at each other across the table.
+
+"I suppose they'll be back directly," Jan said uneasily. "I'll go and
+ask Earley when Hugo took Tony."
+
+"He got up to breakfast to-day for the first time," Meg remarked
+irrelevantly.
+
+Jan went out into the Wrens' garden and through Anthony's gate. She
+fumbled at the catch, for her hands trembled.
+
+Earley was picking peas.
+
+"What time did Mr. Tancred take Master Tony?" she asked.
+
+"Just as we got back from fetchin' the cream, miss. I should say as it
+was about 'alf-past nine. He did meet us at the lodge, and took the
+young gentleman with 'im for company--'e said so."
+
+"Thank you, Earley," Jan said quietly.
+
+Earley looked at her and over his broad, good-natured face there passed
+a shade of misgiving. "I did tell Hannah to let you know the minute I
+cum in, miss."
+
+"Thank you," Jan said again; "that's quite right."
+
+"Be you feelin' the 'eat, miss?" Earley asked anxiously. "I don't think
+as you ought to be out without an 'at."
+
+"No, I expect not. I'll go and get one."
+
+By lunch time there was still no sign of Hugo and Tony; and Jan was
+certainly as much scared as even Hugo could have wished.
+
+Meg had been down to the village and discovered that Hugo and Tony had
+gone by bus to the junction in time for the 10.23.
+
+Peter was playing golf with Squire Walcote on a little course he had
+made in some of his fields. It was impossible to go and hunt for Peter
+without giving away the whole situation, and Jan was loth to do that.
+
+She and Meg stared at one another in dismayed impotence.
+
+Jan ordered the pony-carriage; she would drive to the junction, leaving
+a note for Peter at "The Green Hart," but it was only too likely he
+would lunch with the Walcotes.
+
+"You must eat something," said Meg. "There's a train in at a quarter to
+two; you'd better meet that before you go to the junction; the guard
+might be able to tell you something."
+
+At lunch little Fay wept because there was no Tony.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVI
+
+IN WHICH SEVERAL PEOPLE SPEAK THEIR MINDS
+
+
+"After all, you know," Meg said, with intent to comfort, "no great harm
+can happen to Tony. Hugo will only take the child a little way off, to
+see what he can get out of you."
+
+"It's the moral harm to Tony that I mind," Jan answered sadly. "He was
+getting so happy and trustful, so much more like other children. I know
+his father has got him to go away by some ruse, and he will be miserable
+and embittered because he has been cheated again."
+
+"Shall you drive to the junction if you hear nothing at the station?"
+
+"Yes, I think so, though I've little hope of learning anything there.
+You see, people come there from three directions. They couldn't possibly
+notice everybody as they do at a little station like this."
+
+"Wait," said Meg, "don't go to the junction. Have you forgotten Mr.
+Ledgard was to fetch us all at half-past two? He'll run you over in his
+car in a quarter the time you'd take to go with Placid, and be some use
+as well. You'd better come straight back here if you get no news, and
+I'll keep him till you get back if he turns up first."
+
+By this time the pony-cart was at the door. Meg helped Jan in, kissed
+her, and whispered, "Cheer up; I feel somehow you'll hear something,"
+and Jan drove off. She found a boy to hold the pony when she reached the
+station, and went in. The old porter was waiting for the train, and she
+asked if he happened to notice her little nephew that morning.
+
+"Yes, miss, I did see 'un along with a holder gentleman unbeknownst to
+me."
+
+Jan walked up and down in an agony of doubt and apprehension.
+
+The train came in. There were but few passengers, and among them was
+Miles, come down again for the week-end.
+
+He greeted Jan with effusion. Had she come to meet anyone, or was it a
+parcel?
+
+To his astonishment Miss Ross broke from him and rushed at the guard
+right up at the far end of the train.
+
+The guard evidently disclaimed all knowledge of the parcel, for Miles
+saw him shaking his head vigorously.
+
+"Any other luggage, sir?" asked the old porter, lifting out Miles'
+suit-case.
+
+"Yes, a box of rods in the van."
+
+The old porter went to the end of the train near where Jan had been to
+the guard three minutes before.
+
+He opened the van door and nearly tumbled backward in astonishment, for
+right in the doorway, blinking at the light, stood "Miss Rass' young
+gen'leman."
+
+"Well, I am blessed!" exclaimed the porter, and lifted him out.
+
+Tony was dreadfully dirty. The heat, the dust, the tears he had shed
+when he woke up with the putting in of luggage at the junction and
+couldn't understand what had happened to him, all combined to make him
+about the most miserable-looking and disreputable small boy you could
+imagine. He had left his hat behind the milk-cans.
+
+Jan had gone out of the station. She had passed Miles blindly, and her
+face caused that young man to whistle softly, just once. Then he dashed
+after her.
+
+"Your haunt bin askin' for you," the old porter said to Tony. "'Peared
+to me she was a bit worried-like."
+
+Tony moved stiffly down the little station, the old porter following
+with Miles' luggage on a truck.
+
+The ticket-collector stood in the doorway. Tony, of course, had none.
+"Don't you say nothin'," whispered the old porter. "'Is haunt'll make it
+good; there's some sort of a misteree."
+
+Tony felt queer and giddy. Jan, already in her little pony-trap, had
+started to drive away. Miles, waiting for his baggage beside his uncle's
+car, saw the dejected little figure appear in the station entrance.
+
+He let fly a real barrack-square bellow after Jan, and she pulled up.
+
+She looked back and saw the reason for Captain Middleton's amazing roar.
+
+She swung the indignant Placid round, and in two minutes she was out of
+the pony-trap and had Tony in her strong arms.
+
+Miles tipped the porter and drove off. He, too, realised that there was
+some sort of a "misteree," something painful and unpleasant for Miss
+Ross, and that she would probably prefer that no questions were asked.
+
+Whatever mischief could that young Tony have been after? And dared Miles
+call at Wren's End that evening, in the hope of a glimpse of Meg, or
+would it look inquisitive and ill-bred?
+
+Placid turned a mild, inquiring head to discover the reason for this new
+delay.
+
+When Jan, after paying Tony's fare back from the junction, had driven
+away, the old porter, the ticket-collector, and the station-master sat
+in conclave on the situation. And their unanimous conclusion was summed
+up by the old porter: "Byes be a mishtiful set of young varmints, an' it
+warn't no job for a lone 'ooman to 'ave to bring 'em up."
+
+The lone woman in question held her reins in one hand and her other arm
+very tightly round the dirty little boy on the seat beside her.
+
+As they drove through the village neither of them spoke, but when they
+reached the Wren's End Road, Tony burst into tears.
+
+"I _am_ so hungry," he wailed, "and I feel so nasty in my inside."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+As Meg was putting him to bed that night she inquired if he had done
+anything with his green jersey, for she couldn't find it.
+
+"No," Tony answered. "I haven't had it for a long time--it's been too
+warm."
+
+"It's very odd," said Meg. "It has disappeared, and so have two vests
+of little Fay's that I put in the nursery ottoman to mend. Where can
+they be? I hate to lose things; it seems so untidy."
+
+"I 'spect," said Tony, thoughtfully, "my Daddie took them. He'd never
+leave without takin somefin."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+There was a dinner-party at the Manor House. Peter had come down from
+town for it, and this time he was staying at Wren's End. Lady Penelope
+and her husband were to dine and sleep at the Manor, likewise Miles, who
+had come down with Peter; and Lady Pen contrived thoroughly to upset her
+aunt before dinner, by relating how she had met Miles with Miss Morton
+and her father in Cheltenham. And poor Lady Mary had been hoping that
+the unfortunate affair would die a natural death. She had asked the
+prettiest girl in the neighbourhood for Miles to take in, and now,
+looking down the table at him, she would have said he was as
+well-pleased with his neighbour as any young man could be. The Freams
+were there and Mr. Withells, the pretty girl's mamma and a bride and
+bridegroom--fourteen in all. A dangerous number to ask, the Squire had
+declared; one might so easily have fallen through. No one did, however,
+and Peter found himself allotted to Lady Penelope, while Jan's fate was
+the bridegroom. "His wife won't be jealous of Miss Ross, you know," Lady
+Mary had said while arranging her couples.
+
+It happened that Peter sat opposite to Jan, and he surveyed her across
+the sweet-peas with considerable satisfaction. He had never seen Jan in
+what her niece bluntly called "a nekked dless" before. To-night she wore
+black, in some soft, filmy stuff from which her fine arms and shoulders
+and beautiful neck stood out in challenging whiteness. Her hair, too,
+had "pretty twinkly things" in it, and she wore a long chain of small
+but well-matched pearls, her father's last gift to her. Yes, Jan was
+undoubtedly distinguished, and oh, thank heaven! she _had_ a clean face.
+
+Beautiful Lady Pen was painted to the eyes, and her maid was not quite
+skilful in blending her complexion rightly with her vivid hair;
+beautiful hair it was, with a large ripple that was most attractive, but
+Mr. Withells, sitting on the other side of Lady Pen, decided that he
+didn't approve of her. She was flamboyant and daring of speech. She made
+him nervous. He felt sincerely sorry for Pottinger.
+
+Peter found Lady Pen very amusing, and perhaps she rather neglected her
+other neighbour.
+
+The dinner was excellent and long; and after it the ladies, when they
+left the men to smoke, strolled about on the terrace, and Jan found
+herself side by side with Lady Penelope.
+
+"How's your little friend?" she asked abruptly. "I suppose you know my
+cousin's playin' round?"
+
+Jan was a little taller than Lady Pen, and turned her head slowly to
+look at her: "I'm afraid I don't quite understand," she said.
+
+"Surely," Lady Pen retorted, "you must have seen."
+
+"If you mean that Captain Middleton admires Miss Morton, I believe he
+does. But you see, to say that anyone is 'playing round' rather reflects
+on me, because she is in my charge."
+
+"I should say you've got a pretty good handful," Lady Pen said
+sympathetically.
+
+"I don't think you quite understand Miss Morton. I've known her, as it
+happens, known her well, for close upon nine years."
+
+"And you think well of her?"
+
+"It would be difficult to express how well."
+
+"You're a good friend, Miss Ross. I had occasion to think so once
+before--now I'm pretty sure of it. What's the sayin'--'Time tryeth
+thingummy'?"
+
+"Troth?" Jan suggested.
+
+"That's it. 'Time tryeth troth.' I never was any good at quotations and
+things. But now, look here, I'd like to ask you somethin' rather
+particular ..." Lady Pen took Jan's arm and propelled her gently down a
+side-walk out of earshot of the others. "Suppose you knew folks--and
+they weren't exactly friends, but pleasant, you know, and all that, and
+you were aware that they went about sayin' things about a third person
+who also wasn't exactly a friend, but ... well, likeable; and you
+believed that what the first lot said gave a wrong impression ... in
+short, was very damaging--none of it any business of yours, mind--would
+you feel called upon to do anything?"
+
+The two tall women stopped and faced one another.
+
+The moon shone full on Lady Pen's beautiful painted face, and Jan saw,
+for the first time, that the eyes under the delicately darkened eyebrows
+were curiously like Miles'.
+
+"It's always tiresome to interfere in other people's business," said
+Jan, "but it's not quite fair, is it, not to stand up for people if you
+believe an accusation to be untrue--whether you like them or not. You
+see, it may be such a serious thing for the person implicated."
+
+"I believe you're right," said Lady Pen, "but oh, lord! what a worry it
+will be."
+
+Lady Mary called to them to come, for the bride was going to sing.
+
+The bride's singing was not particularly pleasing, and she was followed
+by Miles, who performed "Drake's Drum," to his aunt's rather uncertain
+accompaniment, in a voice that shook the walls. Poor Mr. Withells fled
+out by the window, and sat on the step on his carefully-folded
+handkerchief, but even so the cold stones penetrated, and he came in
+again.
+
+And after "Drake's Drum" it was time to go home.
+
+Jan and Peter walked back through the scented night, Peter carrying her
+slippers in a silk bag, for the sternly economical Meg wouldn't hear of
+wasting good suede slippers at 22s. 6d. a pair by walking half a mile in
+them, no matter how dry it was.
+
+When all the guests had gone, Lady Pen seized Miles by the arm and
+implored him to take her outside for a cigarette. "That little Withells
+had given her the hump."
+
+Lady Mary said it was bed-time and the servants wanted to lock up. The
+Squire and Mr. Pottinger melted away imperceptibly to smoke in peace
+elsewhere.
+
+Lady Pen, still holding Miles in an iron grip, pulled him over to the
+door, which she shut, led him back, and stood in front of Lady Mary, who
+was just going to ring for the servants to shut the windows.
+
+"Wait a minute, Aunt Mary. I've got somethin' to say, and I want to say
+it before Miles."
+
+"Oh, don't let us go into all that to-night," Lady Mary implored, "if
+what you have to say has anything to do with what you told me before
+dinner."
+
+"It has and it hasn't. One thing I've decided is that I've got to tell
+the Trents they are liars; and the other thing is that, though I
+disapprove with all my strength of the game Miles is playing, I believe
+that little girl is square...."
+
+"You see," Lady Pen went on, turning to Miles, "I've repeated things to
+Aunt Mary that I heard from the Trents lately--but I heard a different
+story at the time--and though I think you, Miles, are throwing yourself
+away, I won't be a party to spreadin' lies. Somethin' that _poudree_
+woman with the good skin said to-night made me feel a swab----"
+
+"I'm glad you've spoken up like this, Pen," Miles said slowly, "for if
+you hadn't, we couldn't have been friends any more. I promised Meg I
+wouldn't tell anybody--but I've asked her to marry me ... and though she
+isn't over keen, I believe I'll get her to do it some day."
+
+"Isn't over keen?" Lady Mary repeated indignantly. "Why, she ought to be
+down on her knees with joy!"
+
+Miles laughed. "She's not a kneeling sort, Aunt Mary. It's I who'll have
+to do the kneeling, I can tell you."
+
+Lady Pen was looking straight at her cousin with the beautiful candid
+eyes that were so like his own. "Just for curiosity," she said slowly,
+"I'd dearly like to know if Meg Morton ever said anything to you about
+me--anything rather confidential--I won't be offended, I'd just like to
+know."
+
+"About you?" Miles echoed in a puzzled voice.
+
+"About my appearance, you know--my looks."
+
+"I think she called you good-looking, like everybody else, but I don't
+remember that she was specially enthusiastic. To tell you the honest
+truth, Pen, we've had other things to talk about than you."
+
+"Now listen, you two," said Lady Pen. "That little girl is straight. You
+won't understand, Miles, but Aunt Mary will. Meg Morton knew I was
+against her--about you, Miles--women always know these things. And yet
+she held her tongue when she could have said something true that I'd
+rather not have talked about. You'll hold your tongue, old chap, and so
+will Aunt Mary. I've got her hair; got it on this minute. That's why
+she's such a croppy."
+
+Lady Mary sat down on the nearest chair and sighed deeply.
+
+"It's been a real satisfaction to me, this transformation, because I
+know where it came from."
+
+Miles took his cousin's hand and kissed it. "If somebody had to have it,
+I'm glad it's you," he said.
+
+"Yes, she's straight," Lady Pen repeated. "I don't believe there's many
+girls who would have kept quiet--not when the man they cared about was
+being got at. You may ring now, Aunt Mary. I'm through. Good night."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"Do you realise," said Peter as they turned out of the dark Manor drive
+into the moonlit road, "that I've been here on and off over a month, and
+that we are now nearly at the end of July?"
+
+"You've only just come to _us_," said Jan. "You can't count the time you
+stayed at 'The Green Hart' as a visit."
+
+"And now I have come ... I'm not quite sure I've done wisely,
+unless...."
+
+"Unless what?"
+
+"Unless I can put something through that I came back from India to do."
+
+Jan did not answer. They walked on in silence, and Peter looked at the
+moon.
+
+"I think," he said, "you've always had a pretty clear idea why I came
+home from India ... haven't you?"
+
+"It was time for your leave," Jan said nervously. "It isn't good to
+stay out there too long."
+
+"I shouldn't have taken leave this year, though, if it hadn't been for
+you."
+
+"You've always been kind and helpful to me ... I hope it hasn't been
+very ... inconvenient."
+
+Peter laughed, and stopped in the middle of the road.
+
+"I'm fond of fencing," he said lightly, "and free play's all very well
+and pretty; but I've always thought that the real thing, with the
+buttons off the foils, must have been a lot more sport than anything we
+get now."
+
+Again Jan was silent.
+
+"You've fenced with me, Jan," he said slowly, "ever since I turned up
+that day unexpectedly. Now, I want a straight answer. Do you care at
+all, or have you only friendship for me? Look at me; tell me the truth."
+
+"It's all so complicated and difficult," she faltered, and her eyes fell
+beneath Peter's.
+
+"What is?"
+
+"This caring--when you aren't a free agent."
+
+"Free fiddlestick! You either care or you don't--which is it?"
+
+"I care a great deal too much for my own peace of mind," said Jan.
+
+"I am quite satisfied," said Peter. And if Mr. Withells had seen what
+happened to the "sensible" Miss Ross just then, his neatly-brushed hair
+would have stood straight on end.
+
+In the road, too!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVII
+
+AUGUST, 1914
+
+
+"No," said Jan, "it would be like marrying a widow ... with
+encumbrances."
+
+"But you don't happen to be a widow--besides, if you were, and had a
+dozen encumbrances, if we want to get married it's nobody's business but
+our own."
+
+Peter spoke testily. He wanted Jan to marry him before he went back to
+India in October, and if he got the billet he hoped for, to follow him,
+taking the two children out, early in November.
+
+But Jan saw a thousand lions in the way. She was pulled in this
+direction and that, and though she knew she had got to depend on Peter
+to--as she put it--"a dreadful extent," yet she hesitated to saddle him
+with her decidedly explosive affairs, without a great deal more
+consideration than he seemed disposed to allow her.
+
+Hugo, for the present, was quiet. He was in Guernsey with his people,
+and beyond a letter in which he directly accused Peter Ledgard of
+abducting Tony when his father was taking him to visit his grandparents,
+Jan had heard nothing.
+
+By Peter's advice she did not answer this letter. But they both knew
+that Hugo was only waiting to make some other and more unpleasant
+demonstration than the last.
+
+"You see," Jan began again, "I've got so many people to think of. The
+children and Meg and the house and all the old servants.... You mustn't
+hustle me, dear."
+
+"Yes, I see all that; but I've got _you_ to think of, and if we're
+married and anything happens to me you'll get your pension, and I want
+you to have that."
+
+"And if anything happened to me, you'd be saddled with the care of two
+little children who've got a thoroughly unsatisfactory father, who can
+always make life hateful for them and for you. No, Peter, it wouldn't be
+fair--we must wait and see how things work out."
+
+"At present," Peter said gloomily, "it looks as if things were working
+out to a fair bust-up all round."
+
+This was on the 30th of July.
+
+Peter went up to London, intending to return on the first to stay over
+the Bank Holiday, but he did not come. He wanted to be within easy reach
+of recalling cablegram.
+
+Meg got a wire from Miles on Saturday: "Try to come up for to-morrow and
+Monday I can't leave town must see you."
+
+And half an hour after it, came a note from Squire Walcote, asking her
+to accept his escort, as he and Lady Mary were going up to the
+Grosvenor, and hoped Meg would be their guest.
+
+It was during their stay in London that Lady Mary and the Squire got the
+greatest surprise of their whole lives.
+
+Miles, looking bigger than ever in uniform, rushed in and demanded an
+interview with Meg alone in their private room. He showed her a special
+licence, and ordered, rather than requested, that she should marry him
+at once.
+
+"I can't," she said, "it's no use asking me ... I _can't_."
+
+"Listen; have you any objection to me?"
+
+Meg pulled a little away from him and pretended to look him up and down.
+"No ... in fact ... I love every bit of you--especially your boots."
+
+"Have you thought how likely it is that I may not come back ... if
+there's war?"
+
+"Don't!" said Meg. "Don't put it into words."
+
+"Then why won't you marry me, and let me feel that, whether I'm killed
+or not, I've had the thing I wanted most in this world?"
+
+"Dear, I can't help it, but I feel if I married you now ... you would
+never come back ... but if I wait ... if I don't try to grasp this
+wonderful thing too greedily ... it will come to us both. I _daren't_
+marry you, Miles."
+
+"Suppose I'm all smashed up ... I couldn't ask you then ... suppose I
+come back minus an arm or a leg, or blind or something?"
+
+"If the least little bit of you comes back, I'll marry that; not you or
+anyone else could stop me then."
+
+"You'd make it easier all round if you'd marry me now...."
+
+"That's it ... I don't want it to be easier. If I was your wife, how
+could I go on being nurse to those children?"
+
+"I wouldn't stop you--you could go back to Miss Ross and do just
+exactly what you're doing. I agree with you--the children are
+cheery----"
+
+Meg shook her head. "No; if I was your wife, it wouldn't do. As it is
+... the nursemaid has got her soldier, and that's as it should be."
+
+"Will you marry me the first leave I get, if I live to get any?"
+
+"I'll think about that."
+
+He gave her the ring she had refused before. Such an absurd little ring,
+with its one big sapphire set with diamonds, and "no backing to it,"
+Miles said.
+
+And he gave her a very heavy brass-studded collar for William, and on
+the plate was engraved her name and address.
+
+"You see," he explained, "Miss Ross would never really have him, and I'd
+like to think he was your dog. And here's his licence."
+
+Then Miles took her right up in his arms and hugged her close, and set
+her gently down and left her.
+
+That night he asked his uncle and a brother-officer to witness his will.
+He had left most of his money among his relations, but twenty thousand
+pounds he had left to Meg absolutely, in the event of his being killed
+before they were married.
+
+His uncle pointed out that there was nothing said about her possible
+marriage. "She'll be all the better for a little money of her own if she
+does marry," Miles said simply. "I don't want her to go mourning all her
+days, but I do want the capital tied up on her so that he couldn't
+waste it ... if he was an unfortunate sort of chap over money."
+
+The Squire blew his nose.
+
+"You see," Miles went on, "she's a queer little thing. If I left her too
+much, she'd refuse it altogether. Now I trust to you, Uncle Edward, to
+see that she takes this."
+
+"I'll do my best, my boy, I'll do my best," said the Squire; "but I hope
+with all my soul you'll make settlements on her yourself before long."
+
+"So do I, but you never can tell in war, you know. And we must always
+remember," Miles added with his broad, cheerful smile, "there's a good
+deal of target about me."
+
+Miles wrote to the little Major, a very manly, straightforward letter,
+telling him what he had done, but swearing him to secrecy as regarded
+Meg.
+
+He also wrote to Jan, and at the end, he said, "I am glad she is to be
+with you, because you really apreciate her."
+
+The one "p" in "appreciate" fairly broke Jan down. It was so like Miles.
+
+Meg, white-faced and taciturn, went back to Wren's End on Tuesday night.
+The Squire and Lady Mary remained in town.
+
+In answer to Jan's affectionate inquiries, Meg was brief and
+business-like. Yes; she had seen Miles several times. He was very busy.
+No, she did not expect to see him again before ... he left. Yes; he was
+going with the First Army.
+
+Jan asked no more questions, but was quietly, consistently kind. Meg
+was adorable with her children and surpassed herself in the telling of
+stories.
+
+The First Army left England for Flanders with the silence of a shadow.
+
+But Meg knew when it left.
+
+That night, Jan woke about one o'clock, conscious of a queer sound that
+she could neither define nor locate.
+
+She sat up in bed to listen, and arrived at the conclusion that it came
+from the day-nursery, which was below her room.
+
+Tony was sleeping peacefully. Jan put on her dressing-gown and went
+downstairs. The nursery door was not shut, and a shaft of light shone
+through it into the dark hall. She pushed it open a little way and
+looked in.
+
+Meg was sitting at the table, making muslin curtains as if her life
+depended on it. She wore her nightgown, and over it a queer little
+Japanese kimono of the green she loved. Her bare feet were pillowed upon
+William, who lay snoring peacefully under the table.
+
+Her face was set and absorbed. A grave, almost stern, little face. And
+her rumpled hair, pushed back from her forehead, gave her the look of a
+Botticelli boy angel. It seemed to merge into tongues of flame where the
+lamplight caught it.
+
+The window was wide open and the sudden opening of the door caused a
+draught, though the night was singularly still.
+
+The lamp flickered.
+
+Meg rested her hand on the handle of the sewing-machine, and the
+whirring noise stopped. She saw Jan in the doorway.
+
+"Dear," said Jan gently, standing where she was, half in and half out of
+the door, "are you obliged to do this?"
+
+Meg looked at her, and the dumb pain in that look went to Jan's heart.
+
+Jan came towards her and drew the flaming head against her breast.
+
+"I'm sorry I disturbed you," Meg murmured, "but I was _obliged_ to do
+something."
+
+William stirred at the voices, and turning his head tried to lick the
+little bare feet resting on his back.
+
+"Dearest, I really think you should go back to bed."
+
+"Very well," said Meg meekly. "I'll go now."
+
+"He," Jan continued, "would be very angry if he thought you were making
+curtains in the middle of the night."
+
+"He," Meg retorted, "is absurd--and dear beyond all human belief."
+
+"You see, he left you in my charge ... what will he say if--when he
+comes back--he finds a haggard Meg with a face like a threepenny-bit
+that has seen much service?"
+
+"All right, I'm coming."
+
+When Meg got back to her room, she went and leaned over little Fay
+sleeping in the cot beside her bed. Rosy and beautiful, warm and
+fragrant, the healthy baby brought comfort to Meg's stricken heart.
+
+Perhaps--who knows--the tramp of that silent army sounded in little
+Fay's ears, for she stretched out her dimpled arms and caught Meg round
+the neck.
+
+"Deah Med!" she sighed, and was still.
+
+William stood at attention.
+
+Presently Meg knelt down by her bed, and according to the established
+ritual he thrust his head into her encircling arm.
+
+"Pray for your master, William," Meg whispered. "Oh, William, pray for
+your master as you never prayed before."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The strange tense days went on in August weather serene and lovely as
+had not been seen for years. Young men vanished from the country-side
+and older men wistfully wondered what they could do to help.
+
+Peter came down from Saturday to Monday, telling them that every officer
+and every civilian serving in India was recalled, but he had not yet
+learned when he was to sail.
+
+They were sitting in the wrens' garden with the children.
+
+"Earley's going," Tony said importantly.
+
+"Earley!" Jan exclaimed. "Going where?"
+
+"To fight, of course," little Fay chimed in.
+
+"Oh, poor dear Earley!" Jan sighed.
+
+"Happy, fortunate Earley," said Peter. "I wish I stood in his shoes."
+
+Earley joined the Gloucesters because, he said, "he couldn't abear to
+think of them there Germans comin' anigh Mother and them childring and
+the ladies; and he'd better go and see as they didn't."
+
+Mr. Withells called the men on his place together and told them that
+every man who joined would have his wages paid to his wife, and his wife
+or his mother, as the case might be, could stop on in her cottage. And
+Mr. Withells became a special constable, with a badge and a truncheon.
+But he worried every soldier that he knew with inquiries as to whether
+there wasn't a chance for him in _some_ battalion: "I've taken great
+care of my health," he said. "I do exercises every day after my bath;
+I'm young-looking for my age, don't you think? And anyway, a bullet
+might find me instead of a more useful man."
+
+No one laughed then at Mr. Withells and his exercises.
+
+Five days after the declaration of war Jan got a letter from Hugo
+Tancred. He was in London and was already a private in a rather famous
+cavalry regiment.
+
+"They didn't ask many questions," he wrote, "so I hadn't to tell many
+lies. You see, I can ride well and understand horses. If I get knocked
+out, it won't be much loss, and I know you'll look after Fay's kiddies.
+If I come through, perhaps I can make a fresh start somewhere. I've
+always been fond of a gamble, and this is the biggest gamble I've ever
+struck."
+
+Jan showed the letter to Peter, who gave it back to her with something
+like a groan: "Even the wrong 'uns get their chance, and yet I have to
+go back and do a deadly dull job, just because it _is_ my job."
+
+Peter went up to town and two days after came down again to "The Green
+Hart" to say good-bye. He had got his marching orders and was to sail in
+the _Somali_ from Southampton. Some fifteen hundred civilians and
+officers serving in India were sailing by that boat and the _Dongola_.
+
+By every argument he could bring forward he tried to get Jan to marry
+him before he sailed. Yet just because she wanted to do it so much, she
+held back. She, too, she kept telling herself, had her job, and she knew
+that if she was Peter's wife, nothing, not even her dear Fay's children,
+could be of equal importance with Peter.
+
+The children and Meg and the household had by much thinking grown into a
+sort of Frankenstein's monster of duty.
+
+Her attitude was incomprehensible to Peter. It seemed to him to be
+wrong-headed and absurd, and he began to lose patience with her.
+
+On his last morning he sought and found her beside the sun-dial in the
+wrens' garden.
+
+Meg had taken little Fay to see Lady Mary's Persian kittens, but Tony
+preferred to potter about the garden with the aged man who was trying to
+replace Earley. William was not allowed to call upon the kittens, as
+Fatima, their mother, objected to him vehemently, and Tony cared to go
+nowhere if William might not be of the party.
+
+Peter came to Jan and took both her hands and held them.
+
+"It's the last time I shall ask you, my dear. If you care enough, we
+can have these last days together. If you don't I must go, for I can't
+bear any more of this. Either you love me enough to marry me before I
+sail or you don't love me at all. Which is it?"
+
+"I do love you, you know I do."
+
+"Well, which is it to be?"
+
+"Peter, dear, you must give me more time. I haven't really faced it all.
+I can't do anything in such a hurry as that."
+
+Peter looked at her and shook his head.
+
+"You don't know what caring is," he said. "I can't stand any more of
+this. Do you see that motto on the sun-dial: 'I bide my time'--I've read
+it and read it, and I've said it over to myself and waited and hoped to
+move you. Now I can't wait any more."
+
+He kissed her, dropped her hand, and turning from her went out through
+the iron gate and down the drive. For a moment Jan stood by the sun-dial
+as though she, too, were stone.
+
+Then blindly she went up the steps into the empty nursery and sat down
+on an old sofa far back in the room. She leaned face-downward against
+the cushions, and great, tearing sobs broke from her.
+
+Peter was gone. He would never come back. She had driven him from her.
+And having done so she realised that he was the one person in the world
+she could not possibly do without.
+
+Tony's own hen had laid an egg. Carrying it very carefully in a
+cabbage-leaf, he went, accompanied by the faithful William, to show it
+to Auntie Jan, and was just in time to see Peter going down the drive.
+
+He went through the wrens' garden and in by the window. For a moment he
+didn't see his aunt; and was turning to go again when a strange sound
+arrested him, and he saw her all huddled up at the head of the sofa,
+with hidden face and heaving shoulders.
+
+He laid his egg on the table and went and pulled at her arm.
+
+"What is the matter?" he asked anxiously. "And why has Peter gone?"
+
+Jan raised her head; pride and shame and self-consciousness were dead in
+her: "He's gone," she sobbed. "He won't come back, and I shall never be
+happy any more," and down went her head again on her locked arms.
+
+Tony did not attempt to console her. He ran from the room, and Jan felt
+that this was only an added pang of abandonment.
+
+Down the drive ran Tony, with William galumphing beside him. But William
+was not happy, and squealed softly from time to time. He felt it unkind
+to leave a poor lady crying like that, and yet was constrained to go
+with Tony because Meg had left him in William's charge.
+
+Tony turned out of the gate and into the road.
+
+Far away in the distance was a man's figure striding along with
+incredible swiftness. Tony started to run all he knew. Now, seldom as
+William barked, he barked when people ran, and William's bark was so
+deep and sonorous and distinctive that it caused the swiftly striding
+man to turn his head. He turned his body, too, and came back to meet
+Tony and William.
+
+Tony was puffed and almost breathless, but he managed to jerk out: "You
+must go back; she's ... crying dreadful. You _must_ go back. Go quick;
+don't wait for us."
+
+Peter went.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Jan very rarely cried. When she did it hurt fiercely and absorbed all
+her attention. She was crying now as if she would never stop. If people
+seldom cry it has a devastating effect on their appearance when they do.
+Jan's eyelids were swollen, her nose scarlet and shiny, her features all
+bleared and blurred and almost scarred by tears.
+
+Someone touched her gently on the shoulder, and she looked up.
+
+"My dear," said Peter, "you must not cry like this. I was losing my
+temper--that's why I went off."
+
+Jan sprang to her feet and flung her arms round his neck. She pressed
+her ravaged face against his: "I'll do anything you like," she
+whispered, "if you'll only like it. I can't stand by myself any more."
+
+This was true, for as she spoke her knees gave under her.
+
+Peter held her close. Never had Jan looked less attractive and never had
+Peter loved her more, or realised so clearly how dear and foolish and
+wise and womanly she was.
+
+"You see," she sobbed, "you said yourself everyone _must_ do his job,
+and I thought----"
+
+"But surely," said Peter, "I _am_ your job--part of it, anyway."
+
+Jan sobbed now more quietly, with her head against his shoulder.
+
+Tony and William came and looked in at the window.
+
+His aunt was still crying, crying hard, though Peter was there close
+beside her, very close indeed.
+
+Surely this was most unreasonable.
+
+"She said," Tony remarked accusingly to Peter, "she was crying because
+you had gone, so I ran to fetch you back. And now I _have_ fetched you,
+she's crying worse nor ever."
+
+But William Bloomsbury knew better. William had cause to know the
+solitary bitter tears that hurt. These tears were different.
+
+So William wagged his tail and ran into the room, jumping joyously on
+Peter and Jan.
+
+
+
+
+[Transcriber's Note:
+
+
+The following corrections were made:
+
+p. 44: Daddy to Daddie, to match all other occurrences (Daddie was very
+daylight.)
+
+p. 113: log to long (long grey dust-cloak)
+
+p. 113: froward to forward (Anthony came forward)
+
+p. 118: bread-an-butter to bread-and-butter (several pieces of
+bread-and-butter)
+
+p. 152: minunte to minute (pondered this for a minute)
+
+p. 284: quit to quick ("I came as quick as I could,")
+
+p. 318: fluttered to flattered (rather flattered)
+
+In the Latin-1 plain text version, an a-macron and an o-breve have been
+removed from the word Jao! (p. 196).
+
+Inconsistencies in hyphenation (e.g. country-side vs. countryside) have
+not been changed. All dialect and "baby talk" has been left as in the
+original. Two different types of thought breaks were used in the
+original: extra whitespace between paragraphs (represented by 5 spaced
+asterisks in this text) and a line of 8 spaced asterisks (left as in the
+original.) Ellipses match the original, even when inconsistent. The
+exception is when they occur at the end of a paragraph, where they are
+always accompanied by a period.]
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Jan and Her Job, by L. Allen Harker
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK JAN AND HER JOB ***
+
+***** This file should be named 29945.txt or 29945.zip *****
+This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:
+        http://www.gutenberg.org/2/9/9/4/29945/
+
+Produced by Robert Cicconetti, S.D., and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This
+file was produced from images generously made available
+by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.)
+
+
+Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions
+will be renamed.
+
+Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no
+one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation
+(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without
+permission and without paying copyright royalties.  Special rules,
+set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to
+copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to
+protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark.  Project
+Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you
+charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission.  If you
+do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the
+rules is very easy.  You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose
+such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and
+research.  They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do
+practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks.  Redistribution is
+subject to the trademark license, especially commercial
+redistribution.
+
+
+
+*** START: FULL LICENSE ***
+
+THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE
+PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK
+
+To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free
+distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work
+(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project
+Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project
+Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at
+http://gutenberg.org/license).
+
+
+Section 1.  General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic works
+
+1.A.  By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to
+and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property
+(trademark/copyright) agreement.  If you do not agree to abide by all
+the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy
+all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession.
+If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the
+terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or
+entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8.
+
+1.B.  "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark.  It may only be
+used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who
+agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement.  There are a few
+things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works
+even without complying with the full terms of this agreement.  See
+paragraph 1.C below.  There are a lot of things you can do with Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement
+and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works.  See paragraph 1.E below.
+
+1.C.  The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation"
+or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic works.  Nearly all the individual works in the
+collection are in the public domain in the United States.  If an
+individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are
+located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from
+copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative
+works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg
+are removed.  Of course, we hope that you will support the Project
+Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by
+freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of
+this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with
+the work.  You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by
+keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project
+Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others.
+
+1.D.  The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern
+what you can do with this work.  Copyright laws in most countries are in
+a constant state of change.  If you are outside the United States, check
+the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement
+before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or
+creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project
+Gutenberg-tm work.  The Foundation makes no representations concerning
+the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United
+States.
+
+1.E.  Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg:
+
+1.E.1.  The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate
+access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently
+whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the
+phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project
+Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed,
+copied or distributed:
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+1.E.2.  If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived
+from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is
+posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied
+and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees
+or charges.  If you are redistributing or providing access to a work
+with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the
+work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1
+through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the
+Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or
+1.E.9.
+
+1.E.3.  If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted
+with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution
+must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional
+terms imposed by the copyright holder.  Additional terms will be linked
+to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the
+permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work.
+
+1.E.4.  Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this
+work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm.
+
+1.E.5.  Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this
+electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without
+prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with
+active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project
+Gutenberg-tm License.
+
+1.E.6.  You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary,
+compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any
+word processing or hypertext form.  However, if you provide access to or
+distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than
+"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version
+posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org),
+you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a
+copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon
+request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other
+form.  Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1.
+
+1.E.7.  Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying,
+performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works
+unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.
+
+1.E.8.  You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing
+access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided
+that
+
+- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from
+     the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method
+     you already use to calculate your applicable taxes.  The fee is
+     owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he
+     has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the
+     Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation.  Royalty payments
+     must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you
+     prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax
+     returns.  Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and
+     sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the
+     address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to
+     the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation."
+
+- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies
+     you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he
+     does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+     License.  You must require such a user to return or
+     destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium
+     and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of
+     Project Gutenberg-tm works.
+
+- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any
+     money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the
+     electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days
+     of receipt of the work.
+
+- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free
+     distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works.
+
+1.E.9.  If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set
+forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from
+both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael
+Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark.  Contact the
+Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below.
+
+1.F.
+
+1.F.1.  Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable
+effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread
+public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm
+collection.  Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain
+"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or
+corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual
+property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a
+computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by
+your equipment.
+
+1.F.2.  LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right
+of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project
+Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project
+Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all
+liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal
+fees.  YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT
+LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE
+PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3.  YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE
+TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE
+LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR
+INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH
+DAMAGE.
+
+1.F.3.  LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a
+defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can
+receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a
+written explanation to the person you received the work from.  If you
+received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with
+your written explanation.  The person or entity that provided you with
+the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a
+refund.  If you received the work electronically, the person or entity
+providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to
+receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund.  If the second copy
+is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further
+opportunities to fix the problem.
+
+1.F.4.  Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth
+in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER
+WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO
+WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE.
+
+1.F.5.  Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied
+warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages.
+If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the
+law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be
+interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by
+the applicable state law.  The invalidity or unenforceability of any
+provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions.
+
+1.F.6.  INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the
+trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone
+providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance
+with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production,
+promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works,
+harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees,
+that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do
+or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm
+work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any
+Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause.
+
+
+Section  2.  Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of
+electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers
+including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers.  It exists
+because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from
+people in all walks of life.
+
+Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the
+assistance they need, are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's
+goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will
+remain freely available for generations to come.  In 2001, the Project
+Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure
+and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations.
+To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation
+and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4
+and the Foundation web page at http://www.pglaf.org.
+
+
+Section 3.  Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive
+Foundation
+
+The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit
+501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the
+state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal
+Revenue Service.  The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification
+number is 64-6221541.  Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at
+http://pglaf.org/fundraising.  Contributions to the Project Gutenberg
+Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent
+permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws.
+
+The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S.
+Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered
+throughout numerous locations.  Its business office is located at
+809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email
+business@pglaf.org.  Email contact links and up to date contact
+information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official
+page at http://pglaf.org
+
+For additional contact information:
+     Dr. Gregory B. Newby
+     Chief Executive and Director
+     gbnewby@pglaf.org
+
+
+Section 4.  Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg
+Literary Archive Foundation
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide
+spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of
+increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be
+freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest
+array of equipment including outdated equipment.  Many small donations
+($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt
+status with the IRS.
+
+The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating
+charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United
+States.  Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a
+considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up
+with these requirements.  We do not solicit donations in locations
+where we have not received written confirmation of compliance.  To
+SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any
+particular state visit http://pglaf.org
+
+While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we
+have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition
+against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who
+approach us with offers to donate.
+
+International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make
+any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from
+outside the United States.  U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff.
+
+Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation
+methods and addresses.  Donations are accepted in a number of other
+ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations.
+To donate, please visit: http://pglaf.org/donate
+
+
+Section 5.  General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works.
+
+Professor Michael S. Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm
+concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared
+with anyone.  For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project
+Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support.
+
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed
+editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S.
+unless a copyright notice is included.  Thus, we do not necessarily
+keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition.
+
+
+Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility:
+
+     http://www.gutenberg.org
+
+This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm,
+including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary
+Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to
+subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks.