I crept through Halkett's larch-wood just to
see what was happening down there, because Mrs. Samson had been hinting
things, and what I saw--oh, what do you think I saw?" She shuddered
and, covering her face, she let one bright eye peep round the protecting
hand. "I saw that idiot boy wringing a hen's neck! And now," she ended,
"I simply can't eat chicken."

"Dear, dear!" John said, and clucked his tongue. "Dreadful confession of
a young girl!"

Lily Brent was laughing. "And to think I've wrung their necks myself!"

"Have you? Ugh! Nasty!"

"It is, but some one had to do it."

"Don't do it again," said John quickly.

She raised her eyebrows, met his glance, and looked away.

"I can't get on with my work while you two are gossiping here."

"Come home, John. Father's iller. Notya's too much worried to be cross.
She had a letter--Aren't you interested?"

He was thinking, "I'll start breaking up that ground tomorrow," and
behind that conscious thought there was another: "I shall be able to
watch her going in and out."

"John--"

"No, I'm not interested. Go home and look after your uncle. I've a lot
to think about."

She left him sitting on a fence and staring creatively at his knees.

CHAPTER VIII

Helen met Miriam in the hall.

"There's been a telegram and Notya's going to Italy."

"Ah!" Miriam said, but her bright looks faded when Helen added, "With
Uncle Alfred."

Miriam dropped her head and thrust her doubled fists under her chin, in
the angry movement of her childhood. "Oh, isn't that just my luck!" she
muttered fiercely. "I--I hadn't done with Uncle Alfred."

"Perhaps father hasn't done with life," Helen remarked.

"Oh, don't be pious! Don't be pious! You're always adorning tales.
You're a prig!"

"Well, I haven't time to think about that now," Helen said with the
excellent humour which made amends for her many virtues. "I'm helping
Notya to pack and I want you to ask George Halkett if he will drive her
down. The train goes at a quarter to three."

"I'm sorry," Miriam said, looking like the heroine in a play, "but I
can't go there. I--don't approve of George."

"Oh!" Helen cried, screwing up her face. "Has John been telling you
about Lily Brent?"

"No. What? Tell me!" Miriam answered with complete forgetfulness of her
pose.

"Some nonsense. George tried to kiss her."

"Did he?" There was a flat tone in Miriam's voice.

"And she hit him, and now John thinks he's wicked."

"S