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Mary, sitting a little aside, listened to their conversation but did not join in it very much. Her knowledge of farm matters was extremely good, but Roger had got the child talking naturally and it was a good chance to study her.

“Beautiful and intelligent,” she decided. “But far too highly strung! Living on her nerves—yes, of course, Charles said that! He knows what he is talking about! But there is more than a hint of obstinacy! It will be difficult ever to make her relax—far more likely she would collapse first!”

A little later Miss Harriet came back with Mr. Bellairs, who only stayed for a moment or two. Miss Harriet found herself talking very comfortably with Roger while Mary chatted with Judith.

Deliberately she kept the conversation to impersonal topics, but when it became obvious that they would be leaving shortly, she leaned a little nearer to Judith and said quietly:

“I wonder whether you would do something for me?”

“Yes, of course,” Judith agreed, wondering what was coming.

“It is just a message I want Charles to have,” Mary explained. “We are up in town because my husband has to pay a six-monthly visit to a specialist about his leg. We have been waiting a long time, during which he has had constant treatment. Now they say that they can operate, and—this is the point—they are convinced that it will be successful. Roger may still limp a little, but there will be no pain as there is at present. I want you to convince Charles of that because otherwise he will worry, and it is time that he was free to think only of his own affairs without bothering about us. He has done so much already!”

“Has he?” Judith was completely unaware of the eager note in her voice.

“He has indeed,” Mary replied, affection for Charles very evident in her tone. “He has been loyalty itself while Roger has been so handicapped. And perhaps the most loyal thing he has ever done has been to leave us now that our son is old enough to take over. You see, he did not want Jerry to feel either that he had been robbed of his rightful place or that he must push his uncle out to get it. We are very fond—and proud—of Charles.”

“Yes,” Judith said quickly, and then with evident sincerity, even if she were anxious to change the subject: “I am
very
glad your husband is going to be better, Lady Garwin.”

Mary smiled. Yes, Charles might certainly do worse!

They went a little later, and Miss Harriet, who had found the situation to which she had come home surprising, to say the least of it, merely remarked casually: “What very pleasant people! I am glad I was in time to meet them!”

“Yes,” Judith agreed and then, quickly: “Did you enjoy yourself?”

“Very much, thank you—” Miss Harriet began, and turned as one of the hotel staff approached her. “Yes?”

“A trunk call for Miss Judith Ravensdale,” the man announced. “If you will come this way, madam.”

Judith followed him, conscious of a feeling of suppressed excitement. A trunk call could only be from Windygates. There was no one else who would think of telephoning.

“Judith Ravensdale,” she said clearly, and a man’s voice answered her. It was Desmond!

“Hallo, darling!” he said cheerfully. “I had to know how you were getting on.”

“Oh—marvellously,” Judith said mechanically. She felt suddenly at a loss, but she made an effort to pull herself together. “How—how nice of you to telephone, Des!”

“Nice to myself!” he assured her. “I wish I were up there; I’d love to be the one that trots you about instead of the horde of men you must have met by now who are clamouring for your favours!”

“But they’re not!” Judith protested laughingly. “Truly, we’ve been far too busy.”

“That’s good!” Desmond said lightly and yet in a way that somehow suggested he really meant it. There was a little pause.

“Des—is everything all right at Windygates—the farm, I mean?”

“I suppose so,” Desmond replied. “Here wait a minute, I’ll call Saxilby—he’s only in the other room.”

“Oh!” Judith said with unconscious sharpness. “Where are you speaking from?”

“Home. Linda and Saxilby have been out to a dance. They are just back. Hold on!”

“No!” Judith said quickly. “No, it’s quite all right. He would not have gone out if anything had been wrong—I must go now, Des. Give Linda my love!”

She rang off abruptly before Desmond could reply, but that did not worry him. He stood smiling thoughtfully at the dumb instrument for several moments before he rejoined his sister and Charles.

TWO days later Judith and Miss Harriet returned. They had shopped intensively and almost everything they had set out to do had been accomplished.

It had interested Miss Harriet considerably to watch Judith making her purchases. The tailored suit was a simple business. Measurements were taken and material and style chosen very quickly. Another fitting was arranged, for which Judith would have to come up specially, and then they turned to the question of dresses. For a girl of Judith’s slim figure it presented little difficulty to buy these ready made. Most of them needed a little shortening, but this was an easy matter, and the articles could be posted home to her. This sort of arrangement, Miss Harriet knew, was simple for Judith, long since trained in thoroughly business-like methods by her father. But colour and style—Miss Harriet had made up her mind that while this shopping must be a success, it would be infinitely better for Judith to do her own choosing. For one thing it would be an education for her, and for another, she would like what she got better if she did not feel that anything had been forced on her.

So Miss Harriet sat back, and Judith, realising that it was up to her, coped with it by finding out who was the head saleswoman and then being perfectly frank with her. (Miss Harriet could hear the echo of her brother’s voice: “Always deal with the man at the top. He knows!”)

“I am going to Canada by sea shortly and I shall be there several months.” Judith’s clear young voice was very businesslike. “I want quite a lot of clothes, but I have very little idea what colours would suit me best. Will you help me?”

The subtle flattery of being consulted worked even greater wonders than the promise of a substantial order. One assistant in particular proved to be exceptionally helpful.

She regarded Judith through narrowed eyes, asked her age and delivered her judgment.

“Your own colouring is sufficiently decisive for you to wear white and cream to advantage. I should suggest several tailored linen dresses in either of those colours with vivid belts and other accessories to match—scarlet, emerald, hyacinth blue. For slightly more formal wear, patterned materials—yes, I think so. Although I strongly advise you to avoid frills and meaningless bows. It does not seem your style to have anything which is not simple in line. For the evening—well, we will get on with the day gowns first!”

But it was an informal evening gown that really won Judith’s heart, although her pride, which made her treat this whole expedition in such a casual way, would not allow her to admit it. It was a crisp little white dress of
broderie anglaise,
and apart from the very good fit and the simple lines of it, the chief attraction was the way in which round the neck, sleeves and hem the material had been cut to the design of the embroidery.

It had a particularly charming effect round the neck, where the cut outline of little leaves made a softly broken line and served to show up Judith’s peachy skin to delightful advantage. But Judith did not analyse her liking for the dress. She just knew that she felt happy in it—and that was a new experience for a girl who had always regarded anything but breeches and a shirt as rather silly and useless.

They saw no more of Roger and Mary, for they had returned to Sussex, but the memory of their visit remained with Judith, and more than once she found herself thinking of the relationship between the two of them. Although it was so obviously something that nobody else could really share, it had not made Judith feel shut out in the cold. On the contrary, because it was something so obviously stable and enduring, it had given her a feeling of security and confidence. She found herself wondering how people could know that it was going to turn out like that. Or didn’t you? Was it just a gamble? Judging by some people she knew, a gamble that did not come off. And yet they must have thought that it would, otherwise they would not have gone into it. So was it just a question of luck? She remembered hearing someone say that the question about those who expected least being least disappointed was obviously made about marriage. Yet Roger and Mary were not disappointed. Quite evidently they expected a tremendous lot of marriage—and somehow they had achieved it. Well, how?

It had never occurred to Judith to wonder very much about marriage before. It was just something vaguely looming in the future. Now, suddenly, to understand all that it meant became urgent, vital. And Judith knew that she would never be able to ask anybody’s guidance. Aunt Harriet, for instance. The thought of marriage could not have meant a tremendous lot to her, otherwise she would never have allowed any obstacles to get in the way of marrying Mr. Bellairs. She did not stop to think it might perhaps be ungenerous to dismiss Miss Harriet’s sacrifice so casually as her thoughts passed on to other women she knew. Linda? No, she decided hastily, it was not a subject that she could discuss with Linda. Besides, she knew so well what Linda would say—had said many times: “People talk about love as if it is the most important thing in the world and then do their utmost to make sure it won’t last! Don’t talk to me about love in a cottage! A man whose wife is a dowdy drudge because he cannot afford to keep a maid for her is always being reminded that he is a failure. And he doesn’t like that. So he blames his wife—and that is the end of that! No, maybe one shouldn’t marry for money, but heaven protect me from loving where it isn’t!”

That was Linda’s solution. And, of course, the Garwins were probably not worried with money problems. But it was more than that.

The problem was beyond her, but as soon as she got home she sought Charles out and delivered Mary’s message. Charles listened in attentive silence, and when she had finished he sighed in evident relief.

“That is the best news I have had for a long time,” he said simply. “Thank you for bringing it!”

He smiled, and Judith found herself smiling in response.

“I liked them,” she found herself saying, and then, in a little rush: “You were quite right. Your brother would not tell lies to get you a job—even if you asked him to!”

Charles ignored the final slur on his own character and even grinned a little, mentally, at it.

“Thank you for saying that!” he said, and added: “I always feel that my relations are the best recommendations I could possibly have! The only bother is that they take a bit of living up to!”

Judith nodded silently, and since she had obviously something more to say, Charles did not interrupt whatever train of thought it was which was occupying her. At last she said slowly:

“They are very happy together, aren’t they?” Charles’s blue eyes became both more alert and intent. So she had seen that, had she? Well, after all, one could hardly miss it unless one was absolutely blind to such things. The only thing was, he had thought Judith
was
blind.

“Very happy,” he agreed. “So happy that—” he broke off abruptly and wheeled sharply. Judith had come down to the farm buildings to deliver her message and now, suddenly, he heard a furtive sound.

“Yes?” he said sharply and from round the corner of the barn young Joe Sellars put in a sheepish appearance.

Charles’s eyes narrowed. How long had the boy been there? And how much had he heard? It was not that anything had been said which really mattered, but the Sellars family were noted for their gift of manufacturing gossip if it did not actually exist and, in any case, the fact that the two of them were talking alone together would be quite enough—after all, he knew perfectly well that his name and Judith’s had already been linked together in the village. With the feeling that there was against Judith it needed very little to turn ordinary village curiosity into a scandal.

“Why aren’t you down in the Five Acre?” Charles demanded. “It isn’t your time yet, you know!”

Joe grinned sheepishly and held up a large oil can he was carrying.

“Must be a leak,” he explained. “Tom sent me back to get more because there’s a squeak in the tractor!”

“Right!” Charles said shortly. “Well, don’t use the same can or we’ll lose more oil! And get a move on!”

“Yessir!” Joe said more smartly, and touched his forehead ingratiatingly to Judith. “Glad to see you back, miss!” he said and shot a sly look at Charles as if to say: “I expect you are too!” But Charles took a step in the direction of the boy and he scuttled off about his business.

Judith was frowning faintly. She had realised that there was more than a hint of tension in the situation, but she could not understand what it was all about. She was not particularly partial to the Sellars family, but young Joe did not work too badly and that was something to be thankful for these days.

“Weren’t you rather down on him?” she suggested, but far more mildly than she would have done a very short while back.

“Yes!” Charles agreed without hesitation. “He needs to know that he can’t take liberties!”

“But has he?” Judith asked.

Charles looked at her thoughtfully. What a child she was in so many ways, in spite of her undoubted ability. Didn’t she realise—no, he was sure she did not, and he certainly was not going to open her eyes to what existed only in the unpleasant minds of other people.

“He has been turning up a bit late every morning and pushing off early, no doubt to make up for it!” he explained quite truthfully. “We can’t allow that, you know!”

“No,” Judith admitted, evidently relieved at the simplicity of the explanation. “We can’t have that!”

“Now,” Charles said briskly, determined to get away from the subject before he could be asked any more awkward explanations, “I expect you would like to know all that has gone on while you have been away. Shall we go up to the office?”