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But not if Sophia elected to come too—by Jove, no! Poor kid! Fancy having that old dragon as a guardian. Small blame to you if you ran away—so did I. Oh, she never succeeded in sitting on me much—that’s why she always considered me pretty much of a bad egg—we had some desperate encounters, old Sophia and I! I’ll bet she’s got poor old Roger well under her thumb, eh? . . . Oh, well, I mustn’t encourage you to say that sort of thing about your aunt, must I? Only———!”

He chuckled. Pamela’s laugh rang out and almost startled her; it was weeks since she had laughed, except out of politeness. She stretched out her arms as if to embrace the whole of her new surroundings—trees—meadows—sweet, cool air—Uncle Markham and all. Oh, this was good—good! Here was love, laughter, mutual understanding—she was coming back to her own. Two tears swam into her eyes—the only happy ones she had known since—how long was it? Ages and ages! She turned to Uncle Markham, crying, “Oh, I shall love being with you!” and he smiled and nodded his share of her happiness. They did not talk much more then, for in a very few minutes their drive was over and they drew up at the front steps. The house was small and unpretentious, but cosily compact; the garden promised everything heart could desire. In the doorway stood a tall woman regarding them stolidly. She came forward with a smile that was too deliberate to be a welcome as Pamela alighted.

“Your Aunt Rosa, child,” said Uncle Markham. Pamela had not expected much of Aunt Rosa, but she experienced her first shock now. Thank goodness, a kiss was not considered necessary—that colourless face, rather massively proportioned, with its small, light grey eyes, smooth cheeks, fleshy but firm, and tightly closed lips was not attractive. What had Uncle Markham seen in her? She was dressed expensively in black brocade, trimmed unsuit-