nflowers, Tod, in shirt and trousers, was surrounded by his dog and the
three small Trysts, all apparently engaged in studying the biggest of the
sunflowers, where a peacock-butterfly and a bee were feeding, one on a
gold petal, the other on the black heart. Nedda went quickly up to them
and asked:

"Has Derek come, Uncle Tod?"

Tod raised his eyes. He did not seem in the least surprised to see her,
as if his sky were in the habit of dropping his relatives at ten in the
morning.

"Gone out again," he said.

Nedda made a sign toward the children.

"Have you heard, Uncle Tod?"

Tod nodded and his blue eyes, staring above the children's heads,
darkened.

"Is Granny still here?"

Again Tod nodded.

Leaving Felix in the garden, Nedda stole upstairs and tapped on Frances
Freeland's door.

She, whose stoicism permitted her the one luxury of never coming down to
breakfast, had just made it for herself over a little spirit-lamp. She
greeted Nedda with lifted eyebrows.

"Oh, my darling! Where HAVE you come from? You must have my nice cocoa!
Isn't this the most perfect lamp you ever saw? Did you ever see such a
flame? Watch!"

She touched the spirit-lamp and what there was of flame died out.

"Now, isn't that provoking? It's really a splendid thing, quite a new
kind. I mean to get you one. Now, drink your cocoa; it's beautifully
hot."

"I've had breakfast, Granny."

Frances Freeland gazed at her doubtfully, then, as a last resource, began
to sip the cocoa, of which, in truth, she was badly in want.

"Granny, will you help me?"

"Of course, darling. What is it?"

"I do so want Derek to forget all about this terrible business."

Frances Freeland, who had unscrewed the top of a little canister,
answered:

"Yes, dear, I quite agree. I'm sure it's best for him. Open your mouth
and let me pop in one of these delicious little plasmon biscuits.
They're perfect after travelling. Only," she added wistfully, "I'm
afraid he won't pay any attention to me."

"No, but you could speak to Aunt Kirsteen; it's for her to stop him."

One of her most pathetic smiles came over Frances Freeland's face.

"Yes, I could speak to her. But, you see, I don't count for anything.
One doesn't when one gets old."

"Oh, Granny, you do! You count for a lot; every one admires you so. You
always seem to have something that--that other people haven't got. And
you're not a bit old in spirit."

Frances Freeland was fin