my clothes! And I have visions, sister Helen, of four
elderly gentlemen sitting round a whist-table, and me reading a book in
a corner. So you see--no, I don't want to take that: give it to
Samson--so you see, I'm a little damped. Well, if I don't like it, I
shall come back. After all, there's Daniel."

"He's tired of you."

She showed her bright, sharp teeth, and said, "He'll recover after a
rest. Oh, dear! I find I'm not so young and trustful as I was, and I'm
expecting to be disappointed."

"The best thing," Helen said slowly, sitting down with a lapful of
clothes, "is for the worst to happen. Then you needn't be troubled any
more." She took a breath. "It's almost a relief."

"Oh, I don't feel so bad as that," Miriam explained, and Helen fell back
laughing loudly.

"You've spilt all my clothes," Miriam said, and began to pick them up.
"And don't make such a noise. Remember Notya!"

Helen was on her side, her head rested on her outstretched arm, and her
face was puckered, her mouth widened with the noise she made.

"Oh," she said, "you always think of Notya at such funny times."

"Somebody has to," Miriam replied severely, and Helen laughed again, and
beat her toes against the ground. Over her, Miriam stood, stern and
disgusted, clasping linen to her breast.

"You're hysterical. Nurse will come in. In fact, I'll go and fetch her.
She'll grin at you!"

"Is this hysterical? It's rather nice," Helen giggled. "Let me laugh
while I can. There'll be no one to say such things when you are gone."
She sat up with a start, and seemed to instruct herself. "You're going,"
she said, and faced the fact.

Miriam threw her bundle on the bed and stood irresolute. For once, the
thoughts of the two had kinship, and they saw the days before them
deprived of the companionship which had been, as it were, abortive, yet
dear to both; necessary, it seemed now; but the future had new things in
it for Miriam, and for Helen it had fear. Nevertheless, it was Miriam
who cried through quivering lips, "Helen, I won't go!"

"You must," she said practically.

"Because of George?"

She nodded: it was indeed because of George, for how could she keep her
promise with Miriam in the house?

"And, after all," Miriam said brightly, "there's Zebedee. I'm not
leaving you quite alone. He'll be back soon. But--it's that I don't want
to do without you. I can't think how to do it."

"I know," Helen said, and added, "but you'll find out."

"An