be contented without incidents? To be
young seemed to involve action, while acquaintanceship with Jane and
Peter seemed to bring one, however unwillingly, into a series of events.

'There was a little accident early this morning,' explained Peter.
'Toffy was travelling at night--to save hotel bills, you know--and
there was a breakdown because he didn't quite understand the
Carstairs's machine, which he had borrowed; so poor Toffy came off
second best; but Jane patched him up most beautifully, and Martin said
he had better have the blue room.'

'Do I understand that Sir Nigel Christopherson stole Captain
Carstairs's motor-car in the middle of the night and left his own
damaged one in its place?' said Miss Abingdon, 'and that he regards
this matter quite lightly?'

'Toffy is a cheery soul,' said Peter.

'You are all cheery souls!' said Miss Abingdon hopelessly. She
summoned the butler and sent for the village doctor, and made Peter
telegraph to Captain Carstairs.

'You always seem to think of everything, Cousin Mary,' said Peter
admiringly.

'Some one has to,' said Miss Abingdon, with a strong touch of
superiority in her manner; and then she walked round the
breakfast-table to where her niece was sitting and kissed her, because
a few minutes ago she had looked at her severely, and what would happen
if Jane were ever to prefer the Erskines' house to hers? What if Jane
were to prolong the six months which it had been stipulated she should
spend with her father's relations in London? Jane loved General
Erskine too well already. Miss Abingdon felt weak as she said, 'Don't
worry any more about it, Jane,' for Jane did not look worried. 'And
now,' she said, 'I must go and see how Sir Nigel is.'

Miss Abingdon still used a key-basket and hoped, please God, she would
never be called upon to give up this womanly appendage, whatever the
world might come to. The jingling of the keys was a harmonious
accompaniment to her whenever she walked about. She bent her steps now
down the cool wide passages of her charming house to visit her disabled
guest, who, she heard, was awake. It was part of her creed that sick
persons should be visited, whether they themselves desired it or not.
In her young days nurses were unknown, and one proved one's
Christianity by the length of time one remained in overheated
sick-rooms. Still, Miss Abingdon was not accustomed to the presence of
a sick man in her house, and she paused on the doo