ho followed her,
but she herself had no idea of its pathos and urgency. "I just tripped
on a brick and was stunned for a few minutes--nothing to matter."

So Caroline and Wilson knew they were to let it go at that.

"And had the men gone?" said Mrs. Bradford.

"Yes." She paused. "I thought I would just have a look round."

"You are so restless, Ethel; why can't you keep quiet like me?" said
Mrs. Bradford fretfully. "It is a great mercy you didn't break a leg."

Caroline went out of the room to make a cup of tea for Miss Ethel, and
when she was lighting the gas-ring Wilson came in hurriedly, saying in
a low voice: "I say, you won't mention anything about leaving them
to-night, will you!"

"What do you take me for?" whispered Caroline back.

"A girl with her head screwed on the right way," he said. "Then you'll
stay and look after them for a little while longer, anyway? I may tell
Miss Temple that, may I?"

"You can tell who you like. I shall not mention leaving until Miss
Ethel is better," said Caroline.

"Good girl! And I won't forget the typewriting machine," he answered.
"One good turn deserves another. That sounds like Miss Panton, doesn't
it?" And with that he hurried out of the kitchen.

_Chapter VIII_

_The Height of the Season_

The sea-roke lasted for nearly two days and then lifted, the damp,
chill air giving place to cloudless sunshine. But even now, when the
sun was setting, no cool wind blew in from the sea across the promenade
thronged with people in thin dresses. This was so unusual in Thorhaven
that those familiar with the place kept saying to each other at
intervals: "Fancy being able to sit here at this hour without a coat!
The air from the sea puffs into your face as if it came out of an
oven----"

The band played outside to-night--not in the hall--and a woman with a
good voice strained by open-air concerts during the past summer was
singing a song in which the words "love" and "roses" seemed to come
with more frequency and on higher notes than the rest, so that they
reached the extremist limits of the promenade, floating above the heads
of Caroline and Wilf as they sat extended on canvas chairs watching
those who walked slowly up and down. It was the night of the visitor
_in excelsis_. Stout, important matrons wearing the dresses they had
for afternoon calls at home in the towns moved slowly along in small
groups, with a solid man or so in attendance who smoked his