ill to Huntersfield. He found Becky
in the Bird Room. She had her head tied up in a white cloth, and a big
white apron enveloped her. She was as white as the whiteness in which
she was clad, and there were purple shadows under her eyes. The windows
were open and a faint breeze stirred the curtains. The shade of the
great trees softened the light to a dim green. After the glare of
Oscar's terrace it was like coming from a blazing desert to the bottom of
the sea.

There was a wide seat under a window which looked out towards the hills.
Becky sat down on it. "Everybody is out," she said, "except Aunt
Claudia. She is taking a nap up-stairs."

"I didn't come to see everybody, Becky. I came to see you."

"I am glad you came. I can rest a bit."

"You work as hard as if you had to do it."

She leaned back against the green linen cushions of the window seat and
looked up at him. "I do have to do it. There is nobody else. Mandy is
busy, and, anyhow, Grandfather doesn't like to have the servants in here.
And neither do I---- It is almost as if the birds were alive--and loved
me."

Randy hugged his knee and meditated. "But there are lots of rich women
who wouldn't dust a room."

She made a gesture of disdain. "Oh, that kind of rich people."

"What kind?"

"The kind that aren't used to their money. Who think ladies--are idle.
Sister Loretto says that is the worst kind--the awful kind. She talked
to me every day about it. She said that money was a curse when people
used it only for their ease. Sister Loretto hates laziness. She had
money herself before she took her vows, but now she works every hour of
the day and she says it brings her happiness."

Randy shook his head. "Most of us need to play around a bit, Becky."

"Do we? I--I think most women would be better off if they were like
Sister Loretto."

"They would not. Stop talking rot, Becky, and take that thing off your
head. It makes you look like a nun."

"I know. I saw myself in the glass. I don't mind looking like a nun,
Randy."

"Well, I mind. Turn your head and I'll take out that pin."

"Don't be silly, Randy."

He persisted. "Keep still while I take it out----"

He found the pin and unwound the white cloth. "There," he said, drawing
a long breath, "you look like yourself again. Yon were so--austere, you
scared me, Becky."

He was again hugging his knees. "When are you going away?"

"On the twenty-ninth. I shall stay o