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the shop. A bee had flown into the premises, and had alighted on her mother’s bare hand when she had taken off her glove to feel the texture of some silk. The bee had stung her, and Mrs Halley had given a little yelp of shock and pain. Quickly Mr Canbrook had come to her side and urged her to a chair. To Lydia’s alarm, the perspiration had broken out on her mother’s brow and her hand had swelled up. Swiftly, then, Mr Canbrook had got tweezers and extracted the bee’s sting, after which he had sent one of his young assistants, Mr Federo, to the nearby teashop to fetch a pot of tea. While the young man was gone Mr Canbrook had applied to the site of the sting a little bicarbonate of soda. After a while Mrs Halley had recovered sufficiently and, after thanking Mr Canbrook for his kindness and sipping a little tea, she and Lydia had gone on their way. The incident had not been forgotten, however, and from that time on Mrs Halley had alwaysspoken of the middle-aged widower with warmth and appreciation.
    It was because of the man’s previous exhibition of kindness and consideration that Lydia must always now give him the benefit of the doubt; and whereas she might in some other case, with some other man, have been cool in the face of his warmth, where Mr Canbrook was concerned she could not be.
    ‘So what do you think of that?’ Mr Canbrook was saying. ‘I shall look out for you the next time you’re round by the shop, and if I see you I shall insist that you come and have some tea with me. That goes for your mother too, of course.’
    Lydia smiled. ‘Very well, then,’ she said, and then added, ‘I really think I’d better get on, Mr Canbrook. If you’ll excuse me.’
    He smiled again and touched at the brim of his hat. ‘Of course. I mustn’t keep you, but remember what I said. I shall be on the lookout.’
    Work at the factory finished for the weekend at one o’clock on Saturday, and when the time came Lydia said goodbye to her father and set off for the market square. She would go and pick up the lamp if the repair was finished, buy some collars that her father had asked her to get for him, and then go and meet Ryllis from the train.
    She went first to the ironmonger, and at the counter asked if the lamp was ready. It was the senior Mr Hammondson she spoke to, and he said at once, ‘Ah, yes, that’s a job concerning my son, miss,’ and called back into the shop, ‘Manny? Special customer here for you.’
    The proprietor’s son came at once and smiled at Lydia in greeting, saying without hesitation, ‘Ah, yes, miss, you’ve come for your lamp,’ and turned back into the rear. When he reappeared a few moments later he was carrying the lamp base. Carefully he set it down on the counter, gave ita wipe with a duster and turned it so that the site of the repair was facing Lydia.
    ‘Well,’ he said, ‘what do you think?’ He was a tall young man with fair hair and pale eyes.
    ‘It looks perfect,’ Lydia said, nodding to endorse her words. ‘It’s quite wonderfully done.’
    The young man was justifiably proud of his craftsmanship. ‘It took me a while,’ he said in his heavy Wiltshire accent, ‘but it was a job worth doin’ and it turned out better than I’d’ oped for.’ He pointed with his finger. ‘Look there, where the breaks were – you can’ ardly see the joins.’
    Very carefully, he wrapped the china base in a length of old cloth, and then took Lydia’s basket from her. As he laid the package inside he said, ‘I replaced the wick as well, Miss, so everything should be fine.’
    When Lydia had paid him, and thanked him again, she went back out onto the street. Her next errand was to buy her father’s collars from the draper’s, a job she did not look forward to, for it meant that she would almost certainly run into Mr Canbrook again.
    She walked along the side of the square until she came to the draper’s and went in, but if she had thought that Mr Canbrook could be avoided she