hat effect it had had upon old Mrs.
Prettyman. Carnaby observed with diabolical meaning that as he had not
been invited to join the party, he would make himself scarce.
Gooseberries, he said, were very good fruit, but he wasn't fond of
them; so he lounged off with his hands in his pockets. Suddenly he
turned. "See here, old Mark! You'll speak a word for me with Cousin
Robin, won't you? It's hard on me to have her hate me when I was
trying to do my best to please her."

"She won't hate you; she couldn't hate anybody," said Lavendar
absently, watching first the door and then the window.

"You say that because you're in love with her! I've a couple of eyes
in my head, stupid as you all think me. You can deny it all you like,
but you won't convince me!"

"I shan't deny it, Carnaby. I am so much in love with her at this
moment that the room is whirling round and round and I can see two of
you!"

"Poor old Mark! Do you think she'll take you on?"

"Can't say, Carnaby!"

"You're a lucky beggar if she does; that's my opinion!" said the boy.

"Put it as strong as you like, Carnaby," Lavendar answered. "You can't
exaggerate my feelings on that subject!"

"If you hadn't fifteen years' start of me I'd give you a run for your
money!" exclaimed Carnaby with a daring look.

XXIII

DEATH AND LIFE

While these incidents were taking place at the Manor House, village
life at Wittisham had been stirring for hours. Thin blue threads of
smoke were rising from the other cottages into the windless air: only
from Nurse Prettyman's there was none. Duckie in the out-house quacked
and gabbled as she had quacked and gabbled since the light began, yet
no one came to let her out and feed her. The halfpenny jug of milk had
been placed on the doorstep long ago, but Mrs. Prettyman had not yet
opened the door to take it in.

Outside in the garden, where the plum tree stood yesterday, there was
now only a stump, hacked and denuded, and round about it a ruin of
broken branches, leaves, and scattered blossoms. Over the wreck the
bees were busy still, taking what they could of the honey that
remained; and in the air was the strong odour of juicy green wood and
torn bark.

The children who brought the milk were the first to discover what had
happened, and very soon the news spread amongst the other cottagers.
Then came two neighbours to the scene, wondering and exclaiming. They
went to the door, but Mrs. Prettyman did not answer their