" he suddenly suggested, "wouldn't you like to walk a
bit?" and he lifted her out. "There, that's better. Now, Miss Morton,
you sit down a minute; you've had a shake, you know. I'll go on with the
kiddies."

Meg was feeling a horrible, humiliating desire to cry. Her eyes were
bright with unshed tears, her knees refused to bear her. Thankfully she
sat down on the foot-board of Fay's little pram. The tall figure between
the two little ones suddenly grew blurred and dim. Furtively she blew
her nose and wiped her eyes. They were not a stone's throw from the
lodge at Wren's End.

How absurd to be sitting there!

And yet she didn't feel inclined to move just yet.

"'Ere, my dear, you take a sip o' water; the gentleman's told me all
about it. Them sort o' shocks fair turns one over."

And kind Mrs. Earley was beside her, holding out a thick tumbler. Meg
drank the deliciously cold water and arose refreshed.

And somehow the homely comfort of Mrs. Earley's presence made her
realise wherein lay the essential difference between these two men.

"He still treats me like a princess," she thought, "even though he
thinks ... Oh, what _can_ he think?" and Meg gave a little sob.

"There, there!" said Mrs. Earley, "don't you take on no more, Miss. The
dear dog bain't 'urted not a 'air of him. 'E cum frolicking in that
friendly--I sometimes wonders if there do be anyone as William 'ud ever
bite. 'E ain't much of a watchdog, I fear."

"He nearly bit someone this afternoon," Meg said.

"Well, I'm not sorry to yer it. It don't do for man nor beast to be too
trustful--not in this world it don't."

At the drive gate Miles was standing.

Mrs. Earley took the pram with her for Earley to clean, and Meg and
Miles walked on together.

"I'm sorry you've had this upset," he said. "I've talked to William like
a father."

"It wasn't only William," Meg murmured.

They were close to the house, and she stopped.

"Good night, Captain Middleton. I must go and put my children to bed;
we're late."

"I don't want to seem interfering, Miss Morton, but don't you let anyone
bully you into picking up an acquaintance you'd rather drop."

"I suppose," said Meg, "one always has to pay for the things one has
done."

"Well, yes, sooner or later; but it's silly to pay Jew prices."

"Ah," said Meg, "you've never been poor enough to go to the Jews, so you
can't tell."

* * * * *

Miles walked slowly back to Amber