Micky turned up at Paddington the following morning laden with papers and chocolates.

“Any one would think we were going to the other side of the world,” June told him. “Do you know, my good man, that it’s only a couple of hours’ run to Enmore?”

“Is it?” said Micky guilelessly. “Well, any way, I’m sure you won’t be able to get De Bry’s chocolates down there, so they’ll come in useful.” He looked at Esther. She was wearing the fur coat and a bunch of violets.

“I think it’s awfully exciting,” she said, meeting his eyes. “We never thought about going till quite late last night, did we, June?”

“Things done in a hurry are almost the most enjoyable,” June answered sententiously. “I’m quite bucked at the idea of living the simple life for a few days.”

“Pity you haven’t got a car down there,” Micky said. “There ought to be some fine runs round about.”

“So there are,” said June promptly. Her queer eyes twinkled as she looked at him. “Micky, would you like to be a perfect dear and come down in yours, and take us out? You can stay at the local inn and play the heavy swell–––”

Micky flushed eagerly.

“That’s a ripping idea,” he said. He turned to Esther: “I’ll come like a shot if I shan’t be in the way,” he added.

Esther smiled; she was surprised to find that the idea was not at all distasteful to her.

“Oh yes; do come!” she said.

June had got into the carriage, and was busy arranging her various possessions.

“You’ll be left behind, Esther,” she said warningly.

Esther turned at once.

“Good-bye, Mr. Mellowes.”

Micky took her hand in a hard grip.

“Good-bye––but only till to-morrow....”

He stood back as the train started; the last glimpse the two girls had of him was his radiantly smiling face.

“Do you know,” said June, settling herself in a corner, “I believe I’m half in love with that man, after all. Isn’t he just a dear?”

“He’s awfully kind,” Esther agreed.

When the train drew into the little station at Enmore June looked at Esther with a sort of apprehension.

“It’s a most awful one-eyed hole, you know,” she said. “I do hope you won’t be bored to death. It won’t be so bad if Micky keeps his promise and comes down, but if he doesn’t....”

“Don’t you think he will?” Esther asked quickly.

“Oh, I dare say he will. I hope he will, I’m sure; somebody has got to amuse you while I go and see to my business.”

“I can amuse myself.”

June sniffed.

“Can you? Well, it’s more than I could when I used to stay down here. There’s only a church and a village inn and a handful of cottages. My aunt has by far the most distinguished-looking house in the village, and I dare say you won’t think much of that.”

They were on the platform now, and June eyed their two suit-cases ruefully.

“We shall have to carry them,” she said. “No porters or taxicabs here, my dear. Come along.”

She grabbed her own, and Esther followed her out into the road.

It was cold but sunny, and the fresh air of the country 200 was something quite different from the chilly, damp atmosphere they had left behind in London.

Esther drew a deep breath.

“It’s lovely,” she said. “Do you know”––she looked ahead of her down the winding road with a little frown––“I’ve got the sort of feeling that something is going to happen to me here.”

“Goodness!” said June. “Don’t you start having instincts too! It’s bad enough for me to have them. What can happen to you, pray, unless you get melancholia or something?”

Esther laughed.

It was only a little way into the village; as soon as they came in sight of it June pointed excitedly to a red gabled house just visible through the trees.

“That’s where my aunt lives. She’s an old maid, you know, and incidentally she thinks I’m a most heaven-born genius. She’s nearly sixty, but I’ll bet anything you like she uses June Mason’s Skin Beautifier.”

She paused to open the iron gate of the little garden, but before there was time to ring the bell the door opened and a little lady with grey hair and a wonderful complexion very much like June’s stood there with outstretched hands.

“My dears! I never was so delighted! June––after all these months you really have come to see me.”

She kissed June heartily and turned to Esther. June introduced them.

“My friend, Esther Shepstone––my aunt, Miss Dearling. I don’t know what you think of us for arriving on top of our wire like this,” she said, laughing. “But I like to do things in a hurry––so here we are, and we’re just starving.”

They followed Miss Dearling into a quaint little square room, where the table was laid for lunch. June talked away all the time.

“There’s another member of the party coming down to-morrow,” she said. “No; a man this time––Micky 201 Mellowes! You remember him? Yes; I thought you would.” She flushed a little. “He’s going to bring his car down and take us all out for rides; so we’re in for a good time.”

“I remember Mr. Mellowes quite well,” Miss Dearling said. When she was alone with Esther for a moment she whispered to her––

“We all hoped June meant to marry him, you know, my dear. Perhaps she has changed her mind, as she is allowing him to come down. Such a very charming man––have you seen him?––and so rich.”

“Yes, I’ve seen him,” Esther said. “He is nice––very!”

“It would be the dream of my life fulfilled if I could see June married to him,” the old lady went on. “June wants a firm hand. She is wonderfully high-spirited and clever, you know, but I always feel that she would be so much happier with some one to look after her, and he is just the man to take care of a woman.”

“Yes,” said Esther.

She felt Miss Dearling glance at her hands.

“Are you––are you engaged to be married?” she asked, after a moment. “Please forgive my curiosity, but I am always so interested in young people’s love-affairs....”

Esther coloured.

“Yes, I am engaged,” she said. “But he is away just now––abroad. I hope we shall be married as soon as he comes home again.”

Miss Dearling said that she hoped so, too; later, when she got a moment alone with June she asked interestedly about the man to whom Esther was engaged.

“I do hope he is nice,” she said anxiously. “Such a very charming girl! such a sweet-looking girl! Is he nice, my dear?”

June crossed the room and shut the door; then she turned round with a little grimace.

“He’s a pig!” she said.

Miss Dearling screamed.

“Oh, my dear!”

“He is,” June maintained stoutly. “She doesn’t think so, of course, but he is, all the same.” She broke off as Esther came back.

Esther woke in the morning with a pleasurable sense of something going to happen. She lay still for a moment looking round her at the heavy, old fashioned furniture and flowered chintz curtains.

Miss Dearling’s house was essentially Early Victorian, from its wool mats and stuffed birds in the sitting-room to the high four-posted bedsteads and faded Brussels carpets.

But there was something very old-world and charming about it too, in spite of rather ugly furniture, and Esther was just admiring the dressing-table, with its petticoat of spotted muslin and pink ribbons, when the door opened and June thrust her head round.

“Can I come in?” She did not wait for an answer, but came in, her long mauve silk kimono making a little rustling sound as she walked.

“I’m really dressed,” she explained, sitting down on Esther’s bed. “All but my frock, at least, and as the post has just come, and a letter from Micky, I thought I’d come and tell you that he’ll be down to-day––after lunch, and he wants us to meet him. I can’t go, as I’ve got a business appointment at three, so you must. He’s going to drive up to the station and wait there for one of us to come and show him where we live.”

There was a little silence. Esther flushed beneath the elder girl’s shrewd gaze.

“I should have thought he could have found out where we live,” she said rather awkwardly. “And it’s such a little way–––”

June rose with a great show of dignity.

“Oh, very well, if you don’t want to be obliging, but I do think you might....”

“Silly––of course I will.” Esther caught her hand. “I’ll go; the station at three o’clock, and then what am I to do? Bring him here, or what?”

“Do what you like, my child––I shan’t be in till five. Don’t let him be bored, that’s all, or he’ll go back to town––the one thing Micky cannot stand is being bored.”

Esther made a little grimace.

She felt nervous when at five minutes to three exactly she walked down the winding road to the station.

June ought to have come herself, she argued; it was a most silly thing to send her––she hoped he would not come at all; but all the time she was listening for the sound of a car or a motor-horn. The sleepy-eyed factotum of the station walked up and stared at her curiously. After a few turns he ventured to ask if she wanted to go by train.

“No, I’m waiting for a gentleman––I––oh, here he is.”

“’Twas her young gentleman for sure,” the sleepy-eyed one told his colleague afterwards. “She blushed up like a rose when she saw him.”

Micky noticed that blush, too, as he turned the car with a fine sweep and came to a standstill.

Esther greeted him with a torrent of explanation.

“June couldn’t come, so she made me––she had to go out on business. She would make me come!”

“It’s very kind,” Micky said. “I’m later than I expected––the roads are bad down in this part of the world. Well, and how do you like Enmore?”

“It’s very quiet, but I like it for a change, and June’s aunt is ever so kind.”

“Yes, a dear old lady; I know her well. Did you tell her I was coming?”

“June did....”

His eyes swept her face anxiously. No trace of tears or sadness to-day, at all events.

“Are we supposed to go straight home?” he asked after a moment. “Because, if not, what do you say to a run round first?”

Esther’s eyes sparkled.

“I should love it!” She got in beside him, and the car started away.

“I only brought the two-seater,” Micky explained audaciously. “I hate a crowd. This will take three at a pinch, but it’s much more comfortable for two.”

“It’s lovely!” Esther agreed.

She leaned back luxuriously.

“It must be splendid to be able to have a car like this of your very own,” she said suddenly.

Micky laughed rather ruefully.

“There are other things I would far rather have,” he said.

“Are there?” She looked up at him innocently. “What things?” she asked.

Micky’s hands tightened over the wheel.

“Am I really to answer that question?” he asked.

“No,” said Esther hurriedly.

She could not think why she had been so stupid as to say such a thing. She felt very vexed.

They went some way in silence. Esther glanced at the man beside her timidly.

Would he end up by some day marrying June? she wondered. Lucky June, if he did––lucky ... she checked the thought with a little sense of shame. Only a few days ago she had declared that she disliked him. Perhaps it was the car that made her feel so suddenly envious of the woman who would one day be this man’s wife.

Micky glanced down at her.

“Are you cold?” he asked.

“I am a little”––she smiled up at him––“in spite of my new coat,” she said. “I think we had better go home.”

June came to the door to meet them.

“I got home earlier than I thought,” she told Esther. “Well, Micky?”

“Are there any letters?” Esther asked. She felt a swift feeling of envy as she looked at these two, so 205 openly and unfeignedly glad to see one another. “I suppose it’s expecting too much though,” she added with a sigh.

June did not answer, and Esther went on and up the stairs.

“There is one for her,” June said in an undertone to Micky as soon as she had gone. “And one from Paris, too––from that man! Micky, are you sure it isn’t all a mistake about him being married?”

“Sure,” said Micky stolidly.

“Then shall I––what shall I do about that letter––it was sent on from London. Ought I to let her have it?”

Micky was taking off his coat, his back was turned.

“Oh, let her have it,” he said casually. “It may be the last she’ll ever get.”

He turned swiftly. “Let me look at it.”

June took it from her dress and handed it to him.

He glanced at the writing and gave it back to her.

“Oh yes, I should let her have it,” he said again.

But June still hesitated.

“Micky––supposing it’s to tell her about––you know ... about this marriage?”

There was a moment’s silence.

“Oh, it would hardly be that,” Micky said positively. “At least––well, if it is, we must chance it.” But his voice did not sound as if he were at all anxious.