elen to the kitchen.

"He's going to teach me to drive," she said. "But what a horse! It goes
on from generation to generation, like the practice!"

George Halkett had laughed at the horse, too, and Helen felt a cold
resentment against him and Miriam.

"Your hair is very untidy, and your cheeks are blue," she said.

"Now you're being a cat. We certainly don't miss Notya when you are
here. I'm in the delightful position, my dear, of being able to afford
blue cheeks and untidy hair. Daniel won't notice them."

"No, he's arguing with Rupert."

"He came into the house after me. I'm going back to tease him."

"Oh, do leave the poor thing alone."

"No, I shan't. He'd be disappointed."

Helen stood by the fire and watched the kettle and listened to the
noises in the schoolroom. Then a shuffling step came down the passage
and Daniel spoke.

"Can I help you?"

"Thank you very much." She knew that he had come for refuge and she
filled the teapot and put it into his hands. "Don't drop it."

"I'll be careful," he said humbly.

Walking in the trail of the tea he spilt, she followed him with the
kettle. She had not the heart to scold him, and at the dining-room door
he let out a sharp sound.

"Oh, dear, has it gone through your boot?" she asked, checking her
laughter.

"I should just think it has!"

Miriam, whose ears were like a hare's, cried from the schoolroom: "Then
perhaps he'll have to have his boot cut off, and that would spoil that
lovely pair! Whatever you do, Zebedee, try to spare his boot!"

"She never leaves me alone," Daniel muttered to the pot.

"Don't take any notice of her," Helen said.

Daniel looked up mournfully. "Wouldn't you?"

"No. Sit here and talk to me." She called through the open door. "Come
in, everybody!" With Daniel on one side of the table and Zebedee on the
other, John's absence was the less apparent. Twilight had not yet come,
but Helen had lighted candles to give the room a festive look, and there
was a feeling of freedom and friendship in the house. They all talked of
unimportant things, and there was laughter amid the chinking of the
cups. For the young men, the presence of the girls had a potent, hardly
admitted charm: for Miriam there was the exciting antagonism of sex: for
Helen there was a pleasure which made her want to take deep breaths.

"Oh!" Miriam cried at last, and flung herself back in her chair. "Isn't
this good? Why can't it always be like this?"

"Hush!" H