e for his
mother's benefit.

"O you attractive son of mine," Mrs. Ross sighed in a whisper.

"He's an awfully sporting kid," Michael said.

Then he suddenly remembered that he had not seen Mrs. Ross since her
husband was killed. Yet from this chintz-hung room whose casements were
flooded with the amber of the westering sun, how far off seemed fatal
Africa. He remembered also that to this very same gay room he had long
ago gone with Miss Carthew after tea, that here in a ribboned bed he had
first heard the news of her coming to live at 64 Carlington Road.

"We must have a long talk together soon," said Mrs. Ross, seeming to
divine his thoughts. "But I expect you're anxious to revive old memories
and visit old haunts with Alan. I'm going to stay here and talk to
Kenneth while Nurse has her tea."

Michael lingered for a moment in the doorway to watch the two. Then he
said abruptly, breathlessly:

"Mrs. Ross, I think painters and sculptors are lucky fellows. I'd like
to paint you now. I wish one could understand the way people look, when
one's young. But I'm just beginning to realize how lucky I was when you
came to us. And yet I used to be ashamed of having a governess. Still, I
believe I did appreciate you, even when I was eight."

Then he fled, and to cover his retreat sang out loudly for Alan all the
way downstairs.

"I say, Aunt Enid wants to talk to you," said Alan.

"Aunt Enid?" Michael echoed.

"Mrs. Carthew," Alan explained.

"I vote we go for a walk afterwards, don't you?" Michael suggested.

"Rather," said Alan. "I'll shout for you, when I think you've jawed long
enough."

Michael found Mrs. Carthew in her sun-coloured garden, cutting down the
withering lupins whose silky seed-pods were strewn all about the paths.

"Can you spare ten minutes for an old friend?" asked Mrs. Carthew.

Michael thought how tremendously wise she looked, and lest he should be
held to be staring unduly, he bent down to sweep together the
shimmering seed-pods, while Mrs. Carthew snipped away, talking in
sentences that matched the quick snickasnack of her weapon.

"I must say you've grown up into an attractive youth. Let me see, you
must be seventeen and a half. I suppose you think yourself a man now?
Dear me, these lupins should have been cut back a fortnight ago. And now
I have destroyed a hollyhock. Tut-tut, I'm getting very blind. What did
you think of Maud's son? A healthy rosy child, and not at all amenable
to dis