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are forever thrusting them down your throat. But it appeared that she had rejoiced too soon. Ella Comperton proposed transferring herself from Mrs. Barber’s cottage to Whincliff Edge in time for lunch next day, and Mrs. Barber would drive her over. She couldn’t stay to lunch, but she would drive her over. Mrs. Barber therefore had not been completely avoided. One might perhaps be out shopping, to taking Neusel for a walk. And by the way, where was Neusel?
    She had reached the staircase, when with a scurry and a rush a black and tan dachshund precipitated himself down the stairs, giving tongue as he came. When he actually reached her his screams became frantic. He nuzzled an adored ankle, shrieked on a high top note, took a fond bite at a restraining hand, moaned, screamed again, and snatching a glove, raced off with it ahead of her.
    “I can’t think how Rachel can bear that noisy dog,” said Mabel Wadlow, with her hand to her head. “Oh dear—just listen to him! Now, Maurice, it’s quite settled that you stay. No, Cherry, it is not the slightest use your making that sort of face. I know no one pays any attention to me, but perhaps you’ll listen to your father. Ernest, tell Cherry that it is all settled, and that they are to stay. And now I really do think we should all go and dress.”
    Cherry Wadlow looked across to where Richard Treherne was reading a letter. She laughed and said,
    “Richard isn’t staying. Like to drive me up to town, Dicky? You’re not one of the nervous ones.”
    Richard Treherne looked up—a dark, strongly built young man with glasses. His best friend could not have called him handsome, and when he frowned as he was doing now he looked formidable, but his voice when he spoke was a remarkably pleasant one.
    “Cherry darling, when you call me Dicky I am liable to an attack of homicidal mania. Just as well I am staying here, because if you did it when we were alone together in a car, there might be a nasty accident.”
    “In fact I’m not Carrie.”
    “And if you call Caroline Carrie, I shan’t wait till we’re alone—I shall just get on with it and murder you here and now.”
    “Might be rather amusing,” said Cherry. “Car-o-line, what would you do if a murderer offered you his heart and his blood-stained hand?”
    Caroline smiled. She was one of the people who do everything with a kind of slow grace. Richard Treherne once said that she always suggested music off. She was not very tall, or very small, or very dark, or very fair. She had lovely brown eyes and very beautiful hands and feet. People who loved her loved her very much indeed. She smiled now and said,
    “I should tell him to wash it.” And went up the stairs without looking back.
    At her own door Rachel Treherne was met by Louisa Barnet—and Louisa in not at all a good temper.
    “You’ll be frozen, Miss Rachel. What you wanted to go up to town for on a day like this, the dear knows, for I don’t. And that Noisy’s got one of your new gloves.”
    Miss Treherne called in a laughing, indulgent voice.
    “Noisy! Darling! Not my new glove! Oh, Noisy—please!”
    “A good smack is what he wants if you ask me!”
    “But I don’t, Louie dear. Noisy—wicked one—give it up—there’s a darling!”
    Neusel, thus wooed, advanced with prancing and tail-wagging to drop the glove. He leapt joyously and licked his mistress’s face as she bent down to pick it up.
    Louisa frowned severely.
    “ ’Orrid creature!” she said. “It passes me how you can let him. And I wouldn’t have him in your room if it was me, because he’ve just been sick.”
    Rachel gazed at the sparkling eyes and healthful aspect of the sinner.
    “He looks all right.”
    “Oh, it didn’t trouble him,” said Louisa darkly.
    “He’ll only scream if we shut him out.”
    “Then he can scream where he won’t be heard!” said Louisa, picking him up by the scruff of the neck and carrying him off.
    Chapter Seven
    After dinner when they were all