better light the lamp in the kitchen passage or Uncle Alfred may
trip over something when he hangs up his coat."

"There won't be anything for him to trip over," Helen said.

"How do you know? It's just the sort of accident that happens to
families that want to make a good impression. We'd better do it. Where
are the steps?"

"The lamp hasn't been trimmed for months, and we can't have a smell of
oil. Leave it alone. The hall is so beautifully dim. Rupert must take
his coat and hang it up for him."

"Very well," Miriam said resignedly; "but if Notya or John had suggested
the lamp, you would have jumped at it."

"No, I should have fetched the steps."

"Oh, funny, funny! Now I'm going to dress."

"There are two hours."

"It will take me as long as that. What shall I wear? Black or red? It's
important, Helen. Tell me."

"Black is safer."

"Yes, if only I had pearls. I should look lovely in black and pearls."

"Pearls," Helen said slowly, "would suit me."

"You're better without them."

"I shall never have them."

"When I've a lot of money I'll give you some."

"Thank you," Helen said.

"Because," Miriam called out when she was half way up the stairs, "I'm
going to marry a rich man."

"It would be wise," Helen answered, and went to the open door.

She could hear Notya moving in her bedroom, and she wondered how a
sister must feel at the approach of a brother she had not seen for many
years. She knew that if she should ever be parted from John or Rupert
there would be no shyness at their meeting and no effusion: things would
be just as they had been, for she was certain of an affection based on
understanding, and now the thought of her brothers kept her warm in
spite of the daunting coldness of the light lying on the moor and the
fact that doors were opening to a stranger.

She checked a little sigh and stepped on to the gravel path, rounded the
house and crossed the garden to find John locking up the hen-house for
the night. He glanced at her but did not speak, and she stood with her
hands clasped before her and watched the swaying of the poplars. The
leaves were spreading and soon they would begin their incessant
whispering while they peeped through the windows of the house to see
what the Canipers were doing.

"They know all our secrets," she said aloud.

John dropped the key into his pocket. "Have we any?"

"Perhaps not. I should have said our fears."

"Our hopes," he said stubbornly.

"I