the railway book-stall for
her usual pile of literature. Her friends always said Jane could not go
even the shortest journey without at least half a dozen papers. But now
they lay unheeded on the seat in front of her. Jane was considering her
Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday, and wondering why they had merely
been weary stepping-stones to Friday. And here was Friday at last, and
once in the train en route for Shenstone, she began to feel happy and
exhilarated. What had been the matter with these three days? Flower had
been charming; Deryck, his own friendly, interesting self; little
Dicky, delightful; and Baby Blossom, as sweet as only Baby Blossom
could be. What was amiss?

"I know," said Jane. "Of course! Why did I not realise it before? I had
too much music during those last days at Overdene; and SUCH music! I
have been suffering from a surfeit of music, and the miss of it has
given me this blank feeling of loneliness. No doubt we shall have
plenty at Myra's, and Dal will be there to clamour for it if Myra fails
to suggest it."

With a happy little smile of pleasurable anticipation, Jane took up the
SPECTATOR, and was soon absorbed in an article on the South African
problem.

Myra met her at the station, driving ponies tandem. A light cart was
also there for the maid and baggage; and, without losing a moment, Jane
and her hostess were off along the country lane at a brisk trot.

The fields and woods were an exquisite restful green in the afternoon
sunshine. Wild roses clustered in the hedges. The last loads of hay
were being carted in. There was an ecstasy in the songs of the birds
and a transporting sense of sweetness about all the sights and scents
of the country, such as Jane had never experienced so vividly before.
She drew a deep breath and exclaimed, almost involuntarily: "Ah! it is
good to be here!"

"You dear!" said Lady Ingleby, twirling her whip and nodding in
gracious response to respectful salutes from the hay-field. "It is a
comfort to have you! I always feel you are like the bass of a
tune--something so solid and satisfactory and beneath one in case of a
crisis. I hate crises. They are so tiring. As I say: Why can't things
always go on as they are? They are as they were, and they were as they
will be, if only people wouldn't bother. However, I am certain nothing
could go far wrong when YOU are anywhere near."

Myra flicked the leader, who was inclined to "sugar," and they flew
along between the