his services; and she acquiesced with the same air of half-weary
graciousness with which she had welcomed his visits.

He noticed that she was rarely to be seen in the village or small town
of Littlefield. Occasionally she would pass him on the road in a
beautiful motor with which he supposed her husband to have endowed her,
and at these times she had generally her small daughter, wrapped in
furs, on the seat beside her.

Anstice's introduction to the latter took place about a fortnight after
his last visit to Cherry Orchard in a professional capacity. It chanced
that he was interested in a small Convalescent Home for Children which
had recently been opened in the neighbourhood, and on one or two days
had cut short his visit to Mrs. Carstairs on the grounds that his
presence was required at the Home. Rather to his disappointment Mrs.
Carstairs had not evinced the slightest interest in the scheme, and his
surprise was proportionately great when, on one fine spring morning, he
received a large bunch of beautiful daffodils from Cherry Orchard, with
a rather carelessly worded request that he would give them to the Home
if they were likely to be welcome there.

Anstice took the flowers with him on his morning visit, and the pleasure
they gave and the gratitude with which they were received led him to
snatch a moment on his way home to call upon the donor and thank her in
person for her kindly gift.

As he turned his car in at the gate he hoard sounds of laughter, and a
few words in a child's high-pitched voice; and when he was half-way up
the drive he discovered from whence the merriment issued.

Just ahead of him was a motor-cycle, driven, it would appear, by a girl
in a trim motoring-suit, while perched on the carrier at the back, in a
fashion which made Anstice's blood run chill, was a small child whom he
recognized as the daughter of the house, Cherry Carstairs, aged
something less than six years.

The two were chattering and laughing, the driver sounding her horn in a
delightfully irresponsible fashion, and both were much too intent on
their progress and on the noise they were making to realize that a car
was coming up the drive immediately behind them.

Instinctively Anstice slowed up, wishing the lively pair at Jericho; but
luckily they had nearly reached the front door, and in another minute
the motor-cycle had come to a standstill and the riders dismounted in
safety.

"There--we've not come to grief, this t