the two dear,
distinctive odours which, more than anything else, presented the scenes
before them--the soft, cowy-milky scent of the farm, the salt, sharp
whiff of the brine. From morn till night, at every available moment,
they discussed the day's programme--feeding animals, calling the cows,
bathing, picnicking on the sands, crab-hunting, mountain climbing.
Excitement grew until it really seemed impossible to exist through the
intervening days, and then the bombshell fell! A letter arrived by an
evening post, when Mr and Mrs Garnett were enjoying the one
undisturbed hour of the day. It bore the Hayes crest, and was written
in Aunt Maria's small, crabbed handwriting--

"My dear Emily,--

"I propose, all being well, to pay you a short visit from Tuesday to
Thursday next, twelfth to fifteenth instant. Please let me have the
same rooms as on my last visit. I am at present living on Benger's
food, and must ask you to see that it is made freshly for each meal, in
a _perfectly clean, enamelled saucepan_.

"The chief object of my visit is to bring back one of your three
daughters to stay with me during the summer vacation. I have been
feeling somewhat lonely of late, and my doctor recommends young society,
so it has occurred to me that in obeying his instructions I might at the
same time afford pleasure and benefit to one of your family. Should I
become interested in the child it might be to her advantage hereafter,
but it must be understood that I can make no promises on this point.

"The eighteen months which have elapsed since my last visit have
somewhat dimmed my remembrance of your girls, so that I must see them
again before deciding as to which of the three I should prefer as a
companion.

"With love to William and yourself,--

"Believe me, my dear Emily,--

"Your affectionate Aunt,--

"Maria Hayes."

Mrs Garnett read this communication in silence, handed it to her
husband, and watched him flush and frown over the perusal.

"Does not even go through the form of asking our consent!"

"No! That's Aunt Maria all over. You could hardly imagine that she
would. Oh dear! Oh dear! I'm afraid, Will--I'm _afraid_ she will have
to go!"

"Poor little kiddie, yes! How she will hate it! Just at this moment
when they are all wild with joy at the thought of their holiday with the
Vernons. It seems positively brutal!"

"Oh, it does. I am so sorry for her--whichever it may be--but one must
sometimes be