marched with Bess at drilling, chose her for her partner at tennis, and
would have changed desks to sit next to her, had not Miss Strong refused
permission. As a natural result of this new state of affairs came a shy
invitation from Bess asking Ingred to tea at Rotherwood. After the many
previous refusals she would hardly have ventured to give in but for
several hints which paved the way. Circumstances, however, alter cases,
and Ingred, who had declared that nothing should induce her to set foot
in her old home, was now all eagerness to go. She was delighted to find
that she was to be the only guest. She felt that on this particular
visit even Verity would be _de trop_.

On a certain Tuesday afternoon, therefore, with full permission from
Miss Burd, she absented herself from the hostel tea-table, and walked
home with Bess instead. It gave her quite a thrill to turn in at the
familiar gate of Rotherwood. The lawns were in beautiful order, and the
beds gay with tulips, aubrietias, forget-me-nots, and a lovely show of
hyacinths. So far from being neglected, the place seemed even better
kept than in the old days. The house, with its pretty modern
black-and-white front, its many gables, and its cheerful red-tiled roof,
looked the same as formerly; but indoors there were great changes. The
hall, which used to be Moorish, was now hung with tapestry, and
furnished in old oak; the drawing-room was yellow instead of blue, with
a big brocade-covered couch and a Chappell piano; the dining-room had
rows of book-cases and some good oil-paintings; the morning-room was a
cheerful chintz boudoir with a gilt mirror and Chippendale chairs; the
conservatory was full of choice flowers, and an aviary had been added to
it.

"Mother is so fond of birds," explained Bess. "They amuse her when her
head's bad and she doesn't care to see anybody. She's made most of them
wonderfully tame."

Mrs. Haselford proved to be a gentle pleasant lady who shook hands
kindly with Ingred, then excused herself on the score of ill-health, and
retired to her room, leaving the girls to have tea by themselves.

"Mother's never been really well for three years," said Bess. "Not since
Bert and Larry----"

She did not finish her sentence, but her eyes turned to the wall where
hung two portraits of lads in khaki. Ingred understood. She knew that
Bess had lost both brothers in the war, and she had heard that poor Mrs.
Haselford had shut herself up in her grief and re