o men talking eagerly on the bank
below, the muddy road growing cream-coloured in patches as it dried,
were all photographed upon Tony's mind. When he started to follow the
stranger he was out of sight, but now Tony trotted steadily forward and
did not look round again.

William was glad. He had been lying in a puddle, and, like little Fay,
he preferred "a dly place."

Meanwhile, at Wren's End the washing had taken a long time to count and
to divide. There seemed a positively endless number of little smocks and
frocks and petticoats and pinafores, and Meg wanted to keep them all for
Mrs. Mumford to wash, declaring that she (Meg) could starch and iron
them beautifully. This was quite true. She could iron very well, as she
did everything she undertook to do. But Jan knew that it tired her
dreadfully, that the heat and the wielding of the heavy iron were very
bad for her, and after much argument and many insulting remarks from Meg
as to Jan's obstinacy and extravagance generally, the things were
divided. Meg put on little Fay's hat and swept her out into the garden;
whereupon Jan plunged into Mrs. Mumford's heap, removed all the things
to be ironed that could not be tackled by Anne Chitt, stuffed them into
Mrs. Chitt's basket, fastened it firmly and rang for Anne and Hannah to
carry the things away.

She washed her hands and put on her gardening gloves preparatory to
going out, humming a gay little snatch of song; and as she ran down the
wide staircase she heard the bell ring, and saw the figure of a man
standing in the open doorway.

The maids were carrying the linen down the back stairs, and she went
across the hall to see what he wanted.

"Well, Jan," he said, and his voice sounded weak and tired. "Here I am
at last."

He held out his hand, and as she took it she felt how hot and dry it
was.

"Come in, Hugo," she said quietly. "Why didn't you let me know you were
coming, and I'd have met you."

The man followed her as she led the way into the cool, fragrant
drawing-room. He paused in the doorway and passed his hand across his
eyes. "It does bring it all back," he said.

He sat down in a deep chair and leaned his head against the back,
closing his eyes. Jan saw that he was thin to emaciation, and that he
looked very ill; shabby, too, and broken.

The instinct of the nurse that exists in any woman worth her salt was
roused in Jan. All the passionate indignation she had felt against her
brother-in-law was mer