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achieved with a lick of paint in this kitchen, and I’m not entirely a decorative artist, you know — I can stoop to working with an ordinary pot of house paint, and in fact I’m rather good at it. I painted every inch of the woodwork in my own flat, and if you’d seen it before I did it you’d unhesitatingly acclaim me as nothing short of a miracle-worker.”
    “As a matter of fact I did see it,” Charlotte replied. “I happened to call one afternoon
    when you were up to your neck in high gloss paint.”
    “Then you’ll agree that I’m no mean performer, and my services ought to be utilised here. How soon can we get hold of some paint, do you think?”
    “We could go into Truro again to-morrow ... or we could probably get some locally.” “Splendid! Then let’s try and see what we can do locally.”
    But as they sipped tea and ate buttered scones with strawberry jam at the kitchen table Charlotte felt the need to point out to her friend that it might be a wasted effort if they made an attempt to improve the distinctly drab appearance of the kitchen. For one thing, it would involve a lot of paint, and if they were to do the job properly they would have to scrub and treat the woodwork first, and the whole enterprise would take several days of united effort. Unless someone was going to live in the house afterwards — and she emphasised the word live’ deliberately — it seemed hardly worth it to exhaust themselves simply because Hannah was rather skilled at transforming dingy paintwork.
    Hannah helped herself to another scone and added a generous topping of strawberry jam to it, and then looked along the length of the table at her friend with rather more of an alert look in her eyes.
    “But you kind of implied you had some sort of plan to live here,” she reminded her.
    Charlotte looked diffident.
    “If I did, it probably wasn’t practical. In fact, I’m reasonably certain it isn’t in the least practical,” she replied.
    “But it was a plan? You had some sort of brilliant idea?”
    “In a way — ”
    “Can you possibly afford to live here without doing something to make the place pay for its upkeep?”
    “You know perfectly well that I can’t.”
    “Well, then.... What was this brilliant idea?”
    Charlotte slipped a piece of cake to Waterloo, who demolished it in a flash.
    “I dismissed the notion of running it as a hotel, because everyone dreams of turning their home into a hotel when they want to make it pay. And it’s not a very original idea, anyway. ... But I did think I might have some success if I ran it as a nursing-home.”
    “A what?”
    A faintly pained expression crossed Charlotte’s delightfully smooth and attractive face.
    „I don’t know why you should be so surprised,” she protested. “After all, you have had
    some experience as a nurse. I mean, you did do two years as a probationer, didn’t you? And if you hadn’t become so obsessed with the idea of painting miniatures you might have stuck at it And although I know nothing at all about nursing I could look after the domestic side... and we could employ people! Just one or two,” rather more vaguely, “when the thing was going well enough to justify the expense. At first it might be a good idea if we catered for convalescent patients only.”
    “It would be the only idea,” Hannah offered it as her opinion, without actually wishing to pour cold water on the scheme. “Unless you’ve got a large amount of capital tucked away somewhere you couldn’t possibly equip this place for really ill people. But I’ll admit it’s the ideal location for convalescence. Not only is the house perfect for that sort of thing, but you’re right on top of the sea, and you’ve got extensive gardens and are far removed from any intrusive sounds. It couldn’t be better, in fact, looked at from the point of view of situation — ”
    “Well, then?” Charlotte enquired eagerly.
    Hannah shook her head.
    “For one thing, I’m not a