irl, and put all worries out
of your head! I must be moving, but I'll look in presently to see how
you are. So long!"

He bent and laid his cheek for a moment against her hand, then turned and
softly left her.

Maud watched the door close behind him, then spoke to the child beside
her. "Eileen darling, always remember that your daddy is the best and
dearest man who ever lived!"

"Yes, Mummy, I know," said Eileen, with earnest shining eyes.

Jake went out to the stables and immersed himself in the day's work. He
had always been a busy man, and time passed swiftly with him. He and his
right-hand man, Sam Vickers, had brought the stud to a pitch of
perfection that had earned for his animals a high place in the opinion of
the racing community. He had, moreover, a reputation for straightness so
unimpeachable that it had become almost a proverb up and down the
country. Men said of Jake Bolton that his honour was such that it could
stand by itself. Certainly no one ever questioned it.

One of his horses was running at Graydown that afternoon, and at the end
of the morning he returned to the house for a hasty lunch before leaving
for the race-course. All memory of Saltash's _protege_ had left him, but
it returned to his mind as he saw the extra place laid at the table. He
looked at his watch and realized that she ought to have arrived half an
hour before. Bunny was also absent, presumably waiting for her.

He paid Maud a brief visit before departing, and found her better. She
was half dressed and lying on a couch in her room. He extracted a promise
from her that she would not go down before tea, though she demurred
somewhat on the score of the expected visitor.

"Leave her to Bunny!" said Jake. "He's quite capable of looking after her
for an hour or two."

"I think Bunny meant to go to the races," she said.

Jake frowned. "Well, he can't for once. Don't you fret now! She'll be all
right."

"Well, tell them to bring her straight up to see me when she arrives!"
Maud begged him. "I shan't be asleep, and really I am much better."

"All right," he conceded. "I'll do that."

He went out and there fell the deep shining peace of a spring afternoon.
Somewhere in the distance a cuckoo was calling softly, monotonously,
seductively. A thrush was warbling in the terraced garden, and from her
window Maud could see old Chops the setter curled up in a warm corner
asleep. The children were all out on the downs, and the house was v