s she told us that Mr. Cripps was not in. He
and Mrs. Cripps had gone to chapel. I remembered then that the day was
Sunday. I had actually forgotten it.

"Is Miss Morley in?" asked Hephzy.

The maid shook her head.

"No, ma'am," she said. "Miss Morley ain't in, either. I think she's gone
to chapel, too. I ain't sure, ma'am, but I think she 'as. She's not in."

She asked if we would leave cards. Hephzy said no.

"It's 'most noon," she said. "They'll be back pretty soon. We'll wait.
No, we won't come in. We'll wait out here, I guess."

There was a rustic seat on the lawn near the house and Hephzy seated
herself upon it. I walked up and down. I was in a state of what Hephzy
would have called "nerves." I had determined to be very calm when I
met her, to show no emotion, to be very calm and cool, no matter what
happened. But this waiting was hard. I grew more nervous every minute.

"I'm going to stroll about, Hephzy," I said. "About the garden and
grounds. I sha'n't go far and I'll return soon. I shall be within call.
Send one of the servants for me if she--if the Crippses come before I
get back."

Hephzy did not urge me to remain. Nor did she offer to accompany me. As
usual she seemed to read my thoughts and understand them.

"All right, Hosy," she said. "You go and have your walk. I'll wait here.
But don't be long, will you."

I promised not to be long. The Cripps gardens and grounds were not
extensive, but they were well kept even if the beds were geometrically
ugly and the color masses jarring and in bad taste. The birds sang, the
breeze stirred the leaves and petals, and there was a Sunday quiet, the
restful hush of an English Sunday, everywhere.

I strolled on along the paths, through the gap in the hedge dividing
the kitchen garden from the purely ornamental section, past the stables,
until I emerged from the shrubbery at the top of a little hill. There
was a pleasant view from this hill, the customary view of hedged fields
and meadows, flocks of sheep and groups of grazing cattle, and over all
the soft blue haze and misty sky.

I paused. And then close beside me, I heard a startled exclamation.

I turned. In a nook of the shrubbery was another rustic seat. Rising
from that seat and gazing at me with a look of amazed incredulity,
was--Frances Morley.

I did not speak. I could not, for the moment. She spoke first.

"You!" she exclaimed. "You--here!"

And still I did not speak. Where was the calm with