s!"

"I believe I should," acknowledged June faintly. "I--I haven't been
sleeping very well lately."

A little shudder ran through her as she recalled those long hours each
night when she lay at Dan's side, staring wide-eyed into the darkness
and wondering dully what it was that had come between herself and her
husband--come just at the time when, with his unborn child beneath her
heart, they two should have been drawn together in to the most wonderful
and blessed comradeship and understanding. Only Dan didn't know
this--didn't know that before the snowdrops lifted their white heads
again from the green carpet of spring there would be a little son--June
was sure it would be a son, to grow up tall and strong like Dan
himself!--born of the love which had once been so sweet and untroubled
by any creeping doubts.

"I assure you"--Gillian broke in on the miserable thoughts that were
chasing each other through June's tired brain--"I assure you, Coppertop
and I are very competent people. We won't break a single dish!"

"But you've never been used to that kind of thing--washing-up!"
protested June, glancing significantly at Gillian's white hands and
soft, pretty frock of hyacinth muslin.

"Haven't I?" Gillian laughed gaily. "I haven't always been as well off
as I am not, and I expect I know quite as much about doing 'chores' as
you! Come now!" She waited expectantly.

"Dan would be awfully angry if he knew--it's my duty, you see," objected
June, visibly weakening.

"If he knew! But what a husband doesn't know his heart doesn't grieve
over," replied Gillian sagely. "There, that's settled. Come along
upstairs and let me tuck you up in your bed, and leave the rest to
Coppertop and me."

And June, with her heart suddenly warmed and comforted in the way in
which an unexpected kindness does warm and comfort, went very willingly
and, tired out in body and mind, fell asleep in ten minutes.

Meanwhile Magda had established herself in the hammock slung from the
boughs of one of the great elms which shaded the garden. She had brought
a book with her, since her thoughts were none too pleasant company just
at the moment, and was speedily absorbed in its contents.

It was very soothing and tranquil out there in the noonday heat. The
gnats hovered in the sunlight, dancing and whirling in little transient
clusters; now and again a ladybird flickered by or a swallow swooped so
near that his darting shadow fell across her book; while