s, dear," Rosalie answered. "Mrs. Noakes shall prepare the basket.
Good chicken broth, and jelly, and nourishing things. Jennings," to the
butler, "you know the kind of basket Miss Vanderpoel wants. Speak to
Mrs. Noakes, please."

"Yes, my lady," Jennings knew the kind of basket and so did Mrs. Noakes.
Below stairs a strong sympathy with Miss Vanderpoel's movements had
developed. No one resented the preparation of baskets. Somehow they were
always managed, even if asked for at untimely hours.

Betty was sitting silent, looking out into the greyness of the
autumn-smitten park.

"Are--are you listening for anything, Betty?" Lady Anstruthers asked
rather falteringly. "You have a sort of listening look in your eyes."

Betty came back to the room, as it were.

"Have I," she said. "Yes, I think I was listening for--something."

And Rosalie did not ask her what she listened for. She was afraid she
knew.

It was not only the Stourtons Betty visited this morning. She passed
from one cottage to another--to see old women, and old men, as well as
young ones, who for one reason or another needed help and encouragement.
By one bedside she read aloud; by another she sat and told cheerful
stories; she listened to talk in little kitchens, and in one house
welcomed a newborn thing. As she walked steadily over grey road and
down grey lanes damp mist rose and hung about her. And she did not walk
alone. Fear walked with her, and anguish, a grey ghost by her side. Once
she found herself standing quite still on a side path, covering her face
with her hands. She filled every moment of the morning, and walked until
she was tired. Before she went home she called at the post office,
and Mr. Tewson greeted her with a solemn face. He did not wait to be
questioned.

"There's been no news to-day, miss, so far," he said. "And that seems
as if they might be so given up to hard work at a dreadful time that
there's been no chance for anything to get out. When people's hanging
over a man's bed at the end, it's as if everything stopped but
that--that's stopping for all time."

After luncheon the rain began to fall softly, slowly, and with a
suggestion of endlessness. It was a sort of mist itself, and became a
damp shadow among the bare branches of trees which soon began to drip.

"You have been walking about all morning, and you are tired, dear," Lady
Anstruthers said to her. "Won't you go to your room and rest, Betty?"

Yes, she would go to h