e prosecuted' in their land, but would people please
not come in? Mrs. Howard was never created to run a farm."

"Had they no men to help them?" Margaret asked.

Miss Avery replied: "Things went on until there were no men."

"Until Mr. Wilcox came along," corrected Margaret, anxious that her
husband should receive his dues.

"I suppose so; but Ruth should have married a--no disrespect to you to
say this, for I take it you were intended to get Wilcox any way, whether
she got him first or no."

"Whom should she have married?"

"A soldier!" exclaimed the old woman. "Some real soldier."

Margaret was silent. It was a criticism of Henry's character far more
trenchant than any of her own. She felt dissatisfied.

"But that's all over," she went on. "A better time is coming now, though
you've kept me long enough waiting. In a couple of weeks I'll see your
light shining through the hedge of an evening. Have you ordered in
coals?"

"We are not coming," said Margaret firmly. She respected Miss Avery too
much to humour her. "No. Not coming. Never coming. It has all been a
mistake. The furniture must be repacked at once, and I am very sorry,
but I am making other arrangements, and must ask you to give me the
keys."

"Certainly, Mrs. Wilcox," said Miss Avery, and resigned her duties with
a smile.

Relieved at this conclusion, and having sent her compliments to Madge,
Margaret walked back to the station. She had intended to go to the
furniture warehouse and give directions for removal, but the muddle had
turned out more extensive than she expected, so she decided to consult
Henry. It was as well that she did this. He was strongly against
employing the local man whom he had previously recommended, and advised
her to store in London after all.

But before this could be done an unexpected trouble fell upon her.

CHAPTER XXXIV

It was not unexpected entirely. Aunt Juley's health had been bad all
winter. She had had a long series of colds and coughs, and had been too
busy to get rid of them. She had scarcely promised her niece "to really
take my tiresome chest in hand," when she caught a chill and developed
acute pneumonia. Margaret and Tibby went down to Swanage. Helen was
telegraphed for, and that spring party that after all gathered in that
hospitable house had all the pathos of fair memories. On a perfect day,
when the sky seemed blue porcelain, and the waves of the discreet little
bay beat gentlest of tattoos upo