s godson, gifts had come in quick
succession to Old Place, curious unexpected, anonymous gifts, but even
Dolly had guessed at once from whom they came.

No wonder the younger children were all excited and delighted at the
thought of his coming visit! Radmore was now looked upon as a fairy
godfather might have been. They were too young, too self-absorbed, to
realise that these wonderful gifts out of the blue never seemed to wing
their way to Betty or Janet. Yet stop, there had been an exception. Last
Christmas each had received an anonymous fairing--Betty, a beautiful
little watch, set in diamonds, and Janet, a wonderful old lace flounce.
Both registered parcels had come from London, Godfrey Radmore being known
at the time to be in Australia. But neither recipient of the delightful
gift had ever cared to wear or use it.

CHAPTER VIII

And meanwhile the man of whom every single human being in Old Place,
with the exception of the little village day girl, was thinking this
afternoon, was coming ever nearer and nearer to Beechfield in an ecstasy
of sentient joy at being "at home" again.

As Radmore motored along the Portsmouth Road through the warmly-beautiful
autumn countryside, a feeling of exultation, of intense personal love
for, and pride in, the old country, filled his heart. Why had he stayed
in London so long when all this tranquil, appealing loveliness of wood,
stream, hill and hollow lay close at hand? There are folk who deny the
charm of Surrey--by whom this delicious county, with its noble stretches
of wild, fragrant uplands, and wide, deep valleys, is dismissed as
suburban. But though they would deny it vehemently, the eyes of such
folk are holden.

As he was borne along through the soft, lambent air, everything he passed
appealed to his heart and imagination. Each of the small, yet dignified,
eighteenth-century houses, which add such distinction and grace to each
Surrey township--Epsom, Leatherhead, Guildford--gave him a comfortable
feeling of his country's well-being, of the essential stability of
England. Now and again, in some woodland glade where summer still
lingered, he would pass by happy groups engaged in black-berrying;
while on the road there waited the charabancs, the motor-cycles, the
pony-traps, which had brought them.

Once, when they came to such a spot, he, Radmore, called out to his
chauffeur to stop. They were close to the crest of Boxhill, and below
them lay spread out what is