l again, and the judges had
been unjust, as usual, to John (John, grown prosperous, had added
horse-breeding to sheep-farming.) Ladslove had only been highly commended.
Ladslove was Rosemary's foal.

"You remember Rosemary, Aggie?"

Aggie remembered neither Rosemary nor her foal. But she was sorry for
Ladslove. She was grateful to him, too, for holding Susie's attention and
diverting it from all the things she didn't want her to see. She was
afraid of Susie; afraid of her sympathy; afraid of her saying something
about Barbara (_she_ couldn't speak of little Bessie, Susie's only child,
who had died three years ago). Above all, she was afraid of Susie's
inquisitive tongue and searching eyes.

She flung herself into fictitious reminiscences of the Queningford stud.
She couldn't have done worse.

"Oh, Aggie," said her sister, "you _do_ mix them up so."

"Well," said poor Aggie, "there are so many of them, I can't keep count."

"Never mind, dear." Aggie's words recalled Susie to her sisterly duties.
"I haven't asked after the children yet. How many are there? _I_ can't
keep count, either, you know."

Aggie turned away, found the old coat she had been lining, and spread it
on her lap. Susie's eye roamed and rested on the coat, and Aggie's
followed it.

"Do excuse my going on with this. Arthur wants it."

Susie smiled in recognition of the familiar phrase. Ever since he had
first appeared in Queningford, Arthur had always been wanting something.
But, as she looked at the poor coat, she reflected that one thing he had
never wanted, or had never asked for, and that was help.

"Aggie," she said, "I do hope that if you ever want a little help, dear,
you'll come to me."

Susie, preoccupied with the idea of liberality, could not see that she had
chosen her moment badly. Her offer, going as it did, hand-in-hand with her
glance, reflected upon Arthur.

"I don't want any help, thank you," said Aggie. "Arthur's doing very well
now. Very well, indeed."

"Then," said Susie, "why on earth do you break your back over that
stitching, if there's no need? That's not my notion of economy."

Susie was a kind-hearted woman, but eight years of solid comfort and
prosperity had blunted her perceptions. Moreover, she had an earnestly
practical mind, a mind for which material considerations outweighed every
other.

"My dear Susie, your notion of economy would be the same as mine, if you
had had seven children."

"But I haven't," s