dmore's honour: all the others felt cross and disappointed,
especially Tom and Rosamund, who had given up going to a tennis-party.

Tea was soon over, for everyone talked much less than usual, and then
they all scattered with the exception of Timmy and Betty. Janet had
someone to see in the village; Tom persuaded Rosamund that they would
still be welcome at the tennis-party; Betty stayed to clear the table.
She, alone of them all, was glad of even this short respite, for, as the
day had gone on, she had begun to dread the meeting inexpressibly. She
knew that even Tom--who had only been seven years old when Godfrey went
away--would be wondering how she felt, and watching to see how she would
behave. It was a comfort to be alone with only Timmy who was still at
table eating steadily. Till recently tea had been Timmy's last meal,
though, as a matter of fact, he had nearly always joined in their very
simple evening meal. And lately it had been ordained that he was to eat
meat. But much as he ate, he never grew fat.

"Hurry up!" said Betty absently. "I want to take off the table-cloth. We
can wash up presently."

Timmy got up and shook himself; then he went across to the window, Flick
following him, while Betty after having made two tray journeys into the
kitchen, folded up the table-cloth. Timmy might have done this last
little job, but he pretended not to see that his sister wanted help. He
thought it such a shame that he wasn't now allowed the perilous and
exciting task of carrying a laden tray. But there had been a certain
dreadful day when...

Betty turned round, surprised at the child's stillness and silence. Timmy
was standing half in and half out of the long French windows staring at
something his sister could not see.

Then, all at once, Betty's heart seemed to stop still. She heard a voice,
familiar in a sense, and yet so unlike the voice of which she had once
known every inflection.

"Hullo! I do believe I see Timothy Godfrey Radmore Tosswill!" and the
window for a moment was darkened by a tall, stalwart figure, which looked
as if it were two sizes larger than that which Betty remembered.

The stranger took up Timmy's slight, thin figure as easily as a little
girl takes up a doll, and now he was holding his godson up in the air,
looking up at him with a half humorous, half whimsical expression, while
he exclaimed:--"I can't think where you came from? You've none of the
family's good looks, and you haven't a