a despairing gesture.

"Oh, if you mean how a woman does it,--drag the old thing tightly over
your left arm, so that you have only one hand to work with, fill your
needle with a silly stuff that breaks if you look at it, and begin see-
sawing away half a mile from the scene of the accident. Stick at it
until you have pulled off most of the skin on your fingers, and then
turn it round and start the whole thing over again, the other way round.
Then walk about and get a blister on your heel!"

The audience sputtered with laughter at this eloquent description, but
Cynthia gazed down her nose with an expression of contemptuous disgust.

"And how many blisters would you have if you did not mend it, pray? May
I suggest that you make the experiment and see? No marks at all for
that answer! Question number four is, Work a buttonhole on the
accompanying strip of linen."

But here Miles struck. No power on earth, he declared, would induce him
to attempt to "festoon" a hole in the accepted fashion.

"When I want one I'll make it with the nearest implement that comes
handy. There are always my teeth as a last resource. It's silly
nonsense cutting out a hole and immediately proceeding to sew it up!
Time enough for that when it begins to split--"

"Plucked! Hopelessly plucked!" cried Cynthia, rolling her eyes in
dismay. Then the spectacles dropped off her nose, and she joined in the
general laughter, and forgot her role of mentor for the rest of the
evening.

But it was not only in the matter of amusement that Cynthia made herself
invaluable during those last trying days; she seemed ever on the watch
for opportunities of service. If anything was overlooked or late in
delivery, she was ready to drive to the shop, and bring it home. She
invited Pam to lunch and tea, thereby setting her elders free and
keeping the child happy and occupied, and she steadily refused to
accompany Miles and Betty on any of their expeditions, thereby earning
her friend's undying gratitude, though perhaps Miles himself was less
appreciative of her self-denial. Her turn for a quiet word came only on
the last day of all, when Miles accompanied her for the few yards which
intervened between the two houses, and stood on the doorstep to wish her
farewell.

His face was white, and his words came out with even more than the usual
difficulty.

"It's been--a jolly good thing for me--knowing you for these last
months. You've been--a help! If I