t Tuesday or Wednesday----'

'Why, that is a week hence, my love!'

'Yes, mother dear, I know; but I have so many engagements just now that
I am obliged to make my plans beforehand. Besides, we could not very
well call before--you know what a muddle they were in.'

'Yes, I remember; and Audrey helped them so nicely to get straight. Very
well, we will say Tuesday; and I really am very much obliged to Percival
for his suggestion, for after all this talk, and the things Edith Bryce
told you yesterday, I shall be quite nervous in calling alone.' But here
a significant look from her daughter checked her, and she changed the
subject rather awkwardly.

'So dear Edith has been talking again,' thought Audrey, as she stepped
out on the terrace with her empty basket; 'I almost wish I had been at
Hillside yesterday, and heard things with my own ears.' And then she
stopped to cut off a dark crimson rose that grew under the schoolroom
window, and as she did so she became aware that Mr. Blake had put down
his book and was watching her. She gave him a smile and a nod, and
walked to the other end of the garden.

'I always forget the schoolroom window,' she said to herself, with a
slight blush, as she recalled that fixed look; 'Mr. Ollier generally sat
with his back to the window and took no notice--he was as blind as a
bat, too--but Mr. Blake is very observant.'

Mrs. Ross had arranged to drive into Dulverton after luncheon with her
husband. When Audrey had seen them off, and had exchanged a parting joke
with her father, she started off for the Gray Cottage. Things had
arranged themselves admirably: she had two hours before Geraldine would
expect her. Michael had consented to fetch her--Kester was coming to him
early in the afternoon, and he had also promised to take a class for Dr.
Ross; he would put in an appearance about half-past five. And Audrey
professed herself satisfied with this arrangement.

Audrey met Kester on her way to the Cottage. The poor boy was dragging
himself along rather painfully on his crutches; the heat tried him, he
said, but he seemed bright and cheerful. Audrey looked pitifully at his
shabby jacket and old boots; she noticed, too, the frayed edges of his
wristbands. 'Is it poverty or bad management?' she thought; and then she
asked Kester how he liked his new tutor. The boy flushed up in a moment.

'Awfully--I like him awfully, Miss Ross, and so does Cyril. You have no
idea of the trouble he takes with