Running upstairs to Mr. Hancock’s room a quarter of an hour before his arrival in the morning Miriam found herself wishing that she lived altogether at Wimpole Street. They were all so kind. Life would be simplified if she could throw in her lot with them. Coming in to breakfast after the lesson had been a sort of home-coming. There were pleasant noises about the house; the family shouted carelessly to each other on the stairs, the school-boy slid down the banisters; the usual subdued manner of the servants was modified by an air of being a possession of the house and liking it. They rushed quietly and happily about. The very aroma of the coffee seemed tranquilly to feed one. At breakfast everyone was cheerful and kind. It was home. They were so sympathetic and amused over the adventure. The meeting in the freshness of the morning made everything easier to handle. It gave the morning a beginning and shed its brightness over the professional hush that fell upon the house at nine o’clock. It would make lunch-time more easy; and at the end of the day, if asked, she would join the family party again.

While Mr. Hancock was looking through his letters she elaborately suppressed a yawn.

“How did you get on?” he asked, with prompt amusement, his eyes on a letter.

“Well, I couldn’t get off; that was just it” murmured Miriam quietly, enjoying her jest; how strong she felt after her good breakfast....

He turned an amused enquiring face and they both laughed. Everything in the room was ready for the day’s work. She polished the already bright set of forceps with a luxurious sense of leisure.

“It was perfectly awful. When we got to the Inner Circle Mr. Leyton simply put me on the bicycle and sent me off. He rode round the other way and I had to go on and on. He scorched about and kept passing me.”

Mr. Hancock waited smiling for the more that stood in her struggling excited voice.

“There were people going round on horse-back and a few other people on bicycles.”

“I expect they all gave you a pretty wide berth.”

“They did; except one awful man, an old gentleman sailing along looking at nothing.”

“What happened?” laughed Mr. Hancock delightedly.

“It was awful, I was most fearfully rude—I shouted ‘Get out of the way’ and I was on the wrong side of the road; but miles off, only I knew I couldn’t get back I had forgotten how to steer.”

“What did he do?”

“He swept round me looking very frightened and disturbed.”

“Hadn’t you a bell?”

“Yes, but it meant sliding my hand along. I daren’t do that; nobody seemed to want it, they all glided about; they were really awfully nice. I had to go on because I couldn’t get off. I can wobble along, but I can’t mount or dismount. I was never so frightened in my life.”

“I’m afraid you’ve had a very drastic time.”

“I fell off in the end I was so dead beat.”

“But this is altogether too drastic. Where was Leyton?”

“Rushing round and round meeting me and then overtaking me, startling me out of my wits by ringing behind for me to get to the side. Nobody else did that. It was awfully kind. I went tacking about from side to side.”

“I’m afraid you’ve had a very drastic time. I think you’d better come up this evening and learn getting on and off on the lawn; that’s the way to do it.”

“Oh” said Miriam gratefully; “but I have no machine. Mrs. Orly lent me hers.”

“I daresay we can hire a machine.”