t's the good of that?' growled Kit. He did not take the keen interest
in the salvation of Jill that the others expected from him, though he
certainly did not raise any grown-up objections to it, as Egbert would
have done. Egbert was going to Oxford in October, and he was getting far
too grown-up for ordinary intercourse with the rest of the family. Kit
was not in the least grown-up; besides, he hated the Doctor--that was
certain, because he so constantly said he did. But it was a pity, the
others agreed, that he did not show more enthusiasm over persecuting him.

'It's a lot of good,' retorted Peter. 'You don't want her to marry the
chap, do you?'

Kit smiled in a superior manner. 'I'm not interested in _marrying_,' he
observed. 'You can't have marrying, or any of that rot, without girls.
And I hate girls.'

'Do you hate Jill?' cried Wilfred, staring.

Christopher kicked another stone across the yard.

'That's different,' he said vaguely. 'Jill's not a girl, exactly.'

'What is she, anyway?' demanded Peter.

Kit's genius was hard pressed. It was so stupid of people to take
him literally. Robin saved his embarrassment by suddenly rushing
helter-skelter into the yard, from the direction of the carriage-drive.

'He's just driven in at the lodge gates,' he panted. 'An' Jill's waiting
on the front doorstep. If you don't look sharp you won't cob them in time.'

The conspirators glanced hastily at one another. 'It's your turn, Kit,'
said Wilfred.

Kit started uncomfortably. 'I don't think so,' he objected. 'I'm not in
the mood, and I should make a mess of it. You go, Peter.'

'All right, I'm on,' said Peter, and he strode briskly towards the front
of the house, swinging his long arms as he went.

Robin danced round the other two gleefully. 'Silly old Doctor won't marry
Jill, won't marry Jill, all on a summer's morning!' he chanted in a kind
of refrain he made up on the spur of the moment.

Kit turned upon him sternly. 'Chuck it, Bobbin, unless you want your head
cuffed!' he commanded, and walked off before he could be provoked into
carrying out his threat.

Upstairs Barbara lay on the sofa by the window and waited for the Doctor's
visit. Her leg was in plaster of Paris now, and she could be lifted on
to the sofa by Egbert, every morning. It was less wearisome than lying
in bed all day, but even the fun of pretending she was enchanted by an
evil fairy did not make up for the dulness of staying in one room all
th