omerfield and sighed.

"I shall take the whole responsibility," he decided magnanimously, "of
saying nothing about the matter. We can't afford to quarrel with Miss
Nora, can we, Somerfield?"

"Not on your life," that young man agreed.

"Sensible boys!" Nora pronounced graciously.

"Thank you very much, Captain Griffiths, for not encouraging them in
their folly. You can take me as far as the post-office when you go,
Arthur," she continued, turning to the fortunate possessor of the
side-car, "and we'll have some golf to-morrow afternoon, if you like."

"Won't Mr. Somerfield have some tea?" Helen invited.

"Thank you very much, Miss Fairclough," the man replied; "we had tea
some time ago at Watson's, where I found Miss Nora."

Nora suddenly held up her finger. "Isn't that the car?" she asked. "Why,
it must be mummy, here already. Yes, I can hear her voice!"

Griffiths, who had moved eagerly towards the window, looked back.

"It is Lady Cranston," he announced solemnly.

CHAPTER II

The woman who paused for a moment upon the threshold of the library,
looking in upon the little company, was undeniably beautiful. She
had masses of red-gold hair, a little disordered by her long railway
journey, deep-set hazel eyes, a delicate, almost porcelain-like
complexion, and a sensitive, delightfully shaped mouth. Her figure
was small and dainty, and just at that moment she had an appearance of
helplessness which was almost childlike. Nora, after a vigorous embrace,
led her stepmother towards a chair.

"Come and sit by the fire, Mummy," she begged. "You look tired and
cold."

Philippa exchanged a general salutation with her guests. She was still
wearing her travelling coat, and her air of fatigue was unmistakable.
Griffiths, who had not taken his eyes off her since her entrance,
wheeled an easy-chair towards the hearth-rug, into which she sank with a
murmured word of thanks.

"You'll have some tea, won't you, dear?" Helen enquired.

Philippa shook her head. Her eyes met her friend's for a moment--it was
only a very brief glance, but the tragedy of some mutual sorrow seemed
curiously revealed in that unspoken question and answer. The two young
subalterns prepared to take their leave. Nora, kneeling down, stroked
her stepmother's hand.

"No news at all, then?" Helen faltered.

"None," was the weary reply.

"Any amount of news here, Mummy," Nora intervened cheerfully, "and heaps
of excitement. We had a Zeppelin