t--a real French salad. I'm sure Mr Corby would
enjoy a French salad," cried Claire, glancing out of the window at the
well-stocked kitchen garden, and thinking of the wet lettuce and uncut
onions, which were the good woman's idea of the dish in question. "May
I make one to-day?"

Mrs Corby smiled with a fine resignation. Personally she wanted none
of them nasty messy foods, but there! the poor thing meant well, and if
it would make her happy, let her have her way. So Claire collected her
materials, and washed and mixed, and filled a great bowl, and decorated
the top with slices of hardboiled eggs, and a few bright nasturtium
blossoms, while three linty-locked children stood by, watching with
fascinated attention. At dinner Claire thoroughly enjoyed her share of
her own salad, but the verdict of the country-people was far from
enthusiastic.

"I don't go for to deny that it tasted well enough," Mrs Corby said
with magnanimous candour, "but what I argue is, what's the sense of
using up all them extras--eggs, and oil, and what not--when you can
manage just as well without? I've never seen the day when I couldn't
relish a bit o' plain lettuce and a plate of good spring onions!"

"But the eggs and the dressing make it more nourishing," Claire
maintained. "In France the peasants have very often nothing but salad
for their dinner--great dishes of salad, with plenty of eggs."

"Eh, poor creatures! It makes your heart bleed to think of it. We may
be thankful we are not foreign born!" Mrs Corby pronounced with
unction, and Claire retired from the struggle, and decided that for the
future it would be more tactful to learn, rather than to endeavour to
teach. The next morning, therefore, she worked under Mrs Corby's
supervision, picking fruit, feeding chickens, searching for eggs, and
other light tasks designed to keep her in the open air; and in the
afternoon accompanied the children on a message to a farm some distance
away. The path lay across the fields, away from the main road, and on
returning an hour later, Mrs Corby's figure was seen standing by her
own gate, her hand raised to her eyes, as though watching for their
approach. The children broke into a run, and Claire hurried forward,
her heart beating with deep excited throbs. What was it? _Who_ was it?
Nobody but Sophie and Cecil knew her address, but still, but still--
For a moment hope soared, then sank heavily down as Mrs Corby
announced--

"A lady,