Franklin Kane

right July day soon after Althea's arrival in England. She had met Mr. Digby at Helen's the day before and had suggested that he should come with them. Gerald had remar

r veil tickle disagreeably, these minor discomforts could not spoil her predominant sense of excitement and adventure. Mr. Digby's presence, particularly, roused it. He was so long, so limp, so graceful, lounging there in his corner. His socks and his tie were of such a charming shade of blue and his hair such a charming shade of light mouse-colour. He was vague and b

closed eyes. Her slender feet, encased in grey shoes, were propped on the opposite seat; her gre

eauty-quite apart from charm, which she didn't claim-she surely excelled Helen; Helen with her narrow eyes, odd projecting nose, and small, sulkily-moulded lips. Deeply though she felt the fascination of her friend's strange visage, she could

d with breeze-swept grain, green and silver, or streaked with the gold of butter-cups; swift streams and the curves o

f a little wood, glimpses of bright meadow among its clearings. '

ke so much,' said Althea. 'It has a sweet,

love and live in,' said Helen. 'Some co

so confident, yet so untender. She could hardly make out that they liked each other; all that one saw was that they trusted, so that it had something of the businesslike quality of a partnership. Yet she found herself building up an absurd little romance about their past. It might be, who knew, that Mr. Digby had once been in love with Helen and that she had

re. Althea, however, didn't find it a bore. Her companions talked now, their heads at the windows; it had been years since they had traversed that country together; every inch of it was known to them and significant of weary waits, won

like fox-hunting, M

not,' said Althea,

you think

y cr

'And where would the foxes be? After all, while t

on't you think that, if they could cho

d the run so much, you know-enjo

ecause he has been terrified so often,' said Helen. 'Let us own that it

y on the subject of animals, foxes in particular, that her courage did not fail her. 'I think it

w; but she thought that they both liked her the better for her frankness, and she felt in the

n, perhaps, rather commonplace; but in a moment she was able to overcome this slight disloyalty and to love it the more for its unpretentiousness. A short, winding avenue of limes led to it, and it stood

g-room. The long drawing-room at the back of the house, overlooking the lawns and a far prospect, was a much inhabited room, cheerful and shabby. There were old-fashioned water-colour landscapes, po

as he looked around him; 'but I must say I like it

t and scratched their initials just as we used to; here are yours and mine. Do you remember the day we did them under Fr?ulein's very nose? And here are all our old books, too. Look, Helen, the Roman history with your wicked drawing

for she had been an only child. She loved it here, for it was like a home, peaceful and sheltering; but where in all the world had she really a home? Where in all the world did she belong? The thought brought tears to her eyes as she looked out of the schoolroom window and listened to Gerald and Helen. It had ended, of course, for of course it had really begun, in Althea's decision to take Merriston House

ts hatpins through it, had laid it on her knees, so that, as Gerald had remarked, she looked rather like Brünhilde on her rocky couch.

sorrowful and piteous as a Mater Dolorosa's. She is definite enough about so

out outside things, l

al to be clear

really understand Althea. People who aren't clear ab

mysterious,' said Gerald. 'One wonders what she would do in certain cases, and f

ders,' s

ct that her pa

and said, 'Be off, please. I'm getting too sleepy to have suspicions. We ha