other friends off
for a lovely expedition to an old castle, and Audrey had been hostess
and had felt herself tied to the luncheon basket and the elder guests,
while Cecil Greyburne and Gertrude had wandered about together all day
and she had never once thought of Reggie.

But she ought to have written on the Friday or Saturday. She
remembered how they had all come in late from a long walk, and Cecil
had discovered that the country post had gone out, and he had not sent
off a particular letter and an Easter card. He had fumed and worried
to such an extent that she had thought it really unnecessary, and
wondered whoever could be of such importance to him. Then Charlie
had recollected that there was a later country post in Dennetford
and Cecil had sat down at Charlie's desk and written furiously, and
enclosed a lovely Easter card--Gertrude had seen enough of it to know
that--and then, without waiting for even a cup of tea, he had ridden
off to Dennetford as if his very life depended on catching that post!

If she had only thought of Reggie's birthday, Cecil would have posted
the letter with his, as he posted one for Charlie.

She went hot all over as she suddenly realised that Charlie's letter
must have been a birthday letter for Reggie. She distinctly remembered
Charlie's words,

"It will reach Scotland on Monday morning."

Charlie might have reminded her!

Hastily now she gathered her writing materials and wrote Reggie his
long delayed birthday letter, and in her haste and regret she forgot
all about her casual on-the-top-of-things style, and though the letter
was very short it was just such a letter as she had written him before
these new ideas came into her head. "I am rushing off to a picnic with
the Stacey people, so cannot write more," she ended up. "We are going
to the Roman Hill. Do you remember how we went there last year and
what a jolly time we had?"

Simple words--and yet Reggie treasured them like gold-dust.

Gertrude posted her letter on her way to the Stacey's house and she
felt vaguely relieved when it slipped from her fingers into the chasm
of the red pillar box. She felt that now she could enjoy herself in
peace.

She was the most popular, the most sought-after girl at the picnic
that afternoon; she was never short of a cavalier to wait on her
lightest behest; she was her prettiest, her most charming self.
The American whispered to her that a picnic without her would be
a desolation and he ha