e Square--the look of a captive who longs to escape. A
policeman was strolling along his beat. Emily and Hannah were taking
their places in the old-fashioned barouche preparatory to starting on
their afternoon amble. Just across the road old "All a-growing all a-
blowing" was standing by his barrow, loudly urging a passer-by to
purchase one of his plants.

Pam looked longingly at the branching palms as his guttural accents came
to her ear--

"Buy a palm, lidy, won't you, lidy? Very cheap--cheaper than you could
buy 'em anywhere in the City. If you've got such a thing as an old
dress or a pair of trousers, of the master's, I'd allow you 'ansome for
them. I'd rather have clothes nor money. I'm a married man, lidy, with
a fam'ly of children--"

"Pam, Pam," cried Mrs Trevor's voice, "don't stand out there, darling.
It's far too cold. Come in here to me."

Pam obediently shut the door, and settled down to the afternoon duties
of plain sewing and practice, which her soul abhorred. It was
characteristic of her that she never rebelled against authority, nor
expressed her distaste in words. A meek, uncomplaining little martyr,
she sat perched on the piano-stool, wrestling with the "Blue Bells of
Scotland," the while the wildest rebellion surged within her soul.

"I wish pianos had never been born! I wish I'd been made a boy. When
I'm a lidy," (unconscious intonation of "All a-blowing!") "I'll have no
pianos in the house, nor no needles, and my little girls shall 'muse
themselves however they like. The--Blue--Bells--of--Scot--land... It
doesn't go a bit nice in the bass! Don't believe I shall ever get it
right if I live a hundred thousand years?"

The moment school was over Jill made a rush for the dressing-room,
scrambled into her outdoor clothes, and hurried to the appointed
meeting-place, where Jack found her a few minutes later. It was already
dusk, and they set off at a brisk trot towards the mansions in which
General Digby's flat was situated, in great hopes of finding that
gentleman at home and disengaged.

"It's too damp for him to be out. Gout's a kind of rheumatism, and that
always has to be kept dry," Jill declared learnedly. "He's sure to be
in, but I've got a card, just in case. It's a correspondence one cut
down, and I've printed our names on it, and `Kind inquiries' in the
corner, like mother puts. It's fine! When I cough it will mean that I
don't know what to say next, so you must go o