for a private residence, and paperers and painters had been busy
there for many weeks. They had only just removed the ladders by the
middle of July.

It was nearly August before Mr. Saxon, Egbert, and Athelstane were
finally demobilized, and they had gone straight to Lynstones to join the
rest of the family at the farmhouse rooms. What was to happen after the
delirious joy of the holiday was over, Ingred did not know. She had
several times mentioned to her mother the prospect of their return to
Rotherwood, but Mrs. Saxon had always evaded the subject, saying: "Wait
till Daddy comes back!" and the welcoming of their three heroes had
seemed a matter of such paramount importance that in comparison with it
even the question of their beloved Rotherwood might stand aside.

The Saxons were a particularly united family, tremendously proud of one
another, and interested in each other's doings. Their name bespoke their
old English origin, which (except in the case of Ingred) was further
vouched for by their blue eyes, fair skins, and flaxen hair. Egbert and
Athelstane were strapping young fellows of six feet, and
thirteen-year-old Hereward was taller already than Ingred. Quenrede,
immensely proud of her quaint Saxon name, and not at all pleased that
the family generally shortened it to Queenie, had just left school, and
had turned up her long fair pigtail, put on a grown-up and rather
condescending manner, powdered the tip of her classic little nose, and
was extremely particular about the cut of her skirts and the fit of her
suede shoes. It was a grievance to Quenrede that, as she expressed it,
she had "missed the war." She had longed to go out to France and drive
an ambulance, or to whirl over English roads on a motorcycle, buying up
hay for the Government, or to assist in training horses, or to help in
some other patriotic job of an equally interesting and exciting
character.

"It's _too_ bad that just when I'm old enough all the jolly things are
closed to women!" she groused. "If Mother had only let me leave school a
year ago, I'd at least have had three months' fun. Life's going to be
very slow now. There's nothing sporty to do at all!"

Ingred, the youngest but one, and fifteen on her last birthday, was the
only dark member of the fair Saxon family. At present she was not nearly
so good-looking as pretty Quenrede; her mouth was a trifle heavy and her
cheeks lacked color; but her eyes had depths that were not seen in her