bin askin' for you," the old porter said to Tony. "'Peared
to me she was a bit worried-like."

Tony moved stiffly down the little station, the old porter following
with Miles' luggage on a truck.

The ticket-collector stood in the doorway. Tony, of course, had none.
"Don't you say nothin'," whispered the old porter. "'Is haunt'll make it
good; there's some sort of a misteree."

Tony felt queer and giddy. Jan, already in her little pony-trap, had
started to drive away. Miles, waiting for his baggage beside his uncle's
car, saw the dejected little figure appear in the station entrance.

He let fly a real barrack-square bellow after Jan, and she pulled up.

She looked back and saw the reason for Captain Middleton's amazing roar.

She swung the indignant Placid round, and in two minutes she was out of
the pony-trap and had Tony in her strong arms.

Miles tipped the porter and drove off. He, too, realised that there was
some sort of a "misteree," something painful and unpleasant for Miss
Ross, and that she would probably prefer that no questions were asked.

Whatever mischief could that young Tony have been after? And dared Miles
call at Wren's End that evening, in the hope of a glimpse of Meg, or
would it look inquisitive and ill-bred?

Placid turned a mild, inquiring head to discover the reason for this new
delay.

When Jan, after paying Tony's fare back from the junction, had driven
away, the old porter, the ticket-collector, and the station-master sat
in conclave on the situation. And their unanimous conclusion was summed
up by the old porter: "Byes be a mishtiful set of young varmints, an' it
warn't no job for a lone 'ooman to 'ave to bring 'em up."

The lone woman in question held her reins in one hand and her other arm
very tightly round the dirty little boy on the seat beside her.

As they drove through the village neither of them spoke, but when they
reached the Wren's End Road, Tony burst into tears.

"I _am_ so hungry," he wailed, "and I feel so nasty in my inside."

* * * * *

As Meg was putting him to bed that night she inquired if he had done
anything with his green jersey, for she couldn't find it.

"No," Tony answered. "I haven't had it for a long time--it's been too
warm."

"It's very odd," said Meg. "It has disappeared, and so have two vests
of little Fay's that I put in the nursery ottoman to mend. Where can
they be? I hate to lose things; it seems so unti