of the ordinary proceedings. I'm sure, my
dear, I don't know why I went. Well, it was so close that I felt I
couldn't walk back, even to 104, without a cup of tea from you. How's
Roddy?"

"All right. Lord Massiter's been down there chatting to him ever since
three o'clock. Would you like us to go down and have our tea with
_them_, or shall we stay cosily up here by ourselves?"

"Why, stay up here of course! You're not looking very well, my dear.
You've not been the thing lately, have you? This business with
Roddy?..." (he took her hand and held it)--"Don't you think it would be
a good thing if you went away for a week or two and had a change?"

"No, Uncle John dear, thank you. I _am_ tired and I _will_ go away later
on, but just now it would only make me anxious and I should worry about
Roddy."

Tea was brought. She looked at Uncle John and thought that he had heard
nothing. His guileless eyes smiled back at her; all that she could
discern in him was apprehension lest he should say something to
displease her, to make her angry. Bless his heart, he need not be afraid
of that now!

As she gave him his sugar she felt that some of the old intimate
relationship between them was creeping back.

"Of course you heard of grandmother's wonderful visit to us the other
day," Rachel said. "Wasn't it amazing? and Christopher says that she was
none the worse--rather the better."

"Amazing," said Uncle John very solemnly. "Perfectly astonishing. Your
grandmother, Rachel, is an astounding woman. Just when we were all of us
thinking that she was really not quite so well, quite so fit as she used
to be, she comes along and does something that she hasn't done for
thirty years. I confess I was nervous when I first heard of it, but
Christopher reassured me--said it would do her no harm, and it hasn't."

"It shows what her affection for Roddy is," Rachel said slowly.

"And for you, dear," Uncle John said timidly. "I know that you
haven't--well, haven't--that is, weren't always very friendly, but I
hope that now you've come to understand her a little more. She's a
difficult woman. She wouldn't be so splendid if she weren't so
difficult."

He saw those hard lines that he knew of old strike into Rachel's face.
He shrank back himself, afraid that he had, by one ruthless sentence,
lost all the happy intimacy that had returned to them.

She had risen and walked to the window. "Dear Uncle John," she said, "I
know you'd like us to be f