rnoon of Nan's visit Sandy was to be
found zealously absorbed in the composition of a triumphal march. The
blare of trumpets, the swinging tramp of marching men and the
thunderous roll of drums--this last occurring very low down in the
bass--were combining to fill the room with joyful noise when there came
a light tap at the open French window and Nan herself stood poised on
the threshold.

"Hullo, Sandy, what's that you're playing?"

Sandy sprang off the music stool, beaming with delight, and, seizing
her by both arms, drew her rapturously into the room.

"You're the very person I want," he exclaimed without further greeting.
"It's a march, and I don't know whether I like this modulation into D
minor or not. Listen."

Nan obeyed, gave her opinion, and finally subsided rather listlessly
into a low arm-chair.

"Give me a cigarette, Sandy. It's an awfully tiring walk here. Is
Aunt Eliza in? I hope she is, because I want some tea."

"She is. But I'd give you tea if she wasn't."

"And set the whole of St. Wennys gossiping! It wouldn't be proper,
boy."

"Oh, yes, it would. I count as a kind of cousin, you know."

"All the same, Mrs. Petherick at the lodge would confide the
information that we'd had tea alone together to Miss Penwarne at the
Post Office, and in half an hour the entire village would be all agog
to know when the subsequent elopement was likely to occur."

Sandy grinned. He had proposed to Nan several times already, only to
be good-naturedly turned down.

"I'd supply a date with pleasure."

Nan shook her head at him.

"A man may not marry his grandmother."

He struck a match and held it while she lit her cigarette. Then,
blowing out the flame, he enquired:

"Does that apply when she's only three years his senior?"

"Oh, Sandy, I'm aeons older than you. A woman always is.
Besides"--her words hurrying a little--"I'm engaged already."

"Engaged?"

He dropped the dead match he was still holding and stared out of the
window a moment. Then, squaring his shoulders, he said quietly:

"Who's the lucky beggar?"

"Roger Trenby."

Sandy's lips pursed themselves to whistle, but he checked himself in
time and no sound escaped. Turning to Nan, he spoke with a gravity
that sat strangely on him.

"Old girl, I hope you'll be very happy--the happiest woman in the
world." But there was a look of dissatisfaction in his eyes which had
nothing whatever to do with his own disappointment. He