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bus journey would be necessary after all.
    And then Geoffrey Barbin, turning up at the ever-open back door, with a gift of strawberries for the children too young to go to the picnic, and hearing the sad story, made a suggestion. He was too busy to run the patient and her escort into Great Garsford himself, but he w ould be delighted to lend his two-seater, if anyone could drive it.
    “ I can drive all right, but my licence expired months ago, ” Hilda said, frowning. “ And Matron ’ s expecting an important visitor. What about you, Catherine? ”
    Catherine hesitated, but only for a second. “ My licence is up to date, ” she returned, “ and if you really think Maureen ought to be taken in by car, rather than by bus, I ’ ll gladly run her in. ”
    “ I certainly do. ” Hilda ’ s tone was incisive. “ The buses are always packed on a Saturday afternoon, and what with this fete, they ’ ll be worse than ever. The child has just begun to pick up her health since she came here; she was perpetually ailing, at first. I don ’ t want her ill again .”
    Geoffrey nodded agreement. “ Queuing up for buses, and watching them sail by, full up, is a very poor idea—when, as in this case, there ’ s an alternative. If you ’ ll tell me the time you want to leave, I ’ ll get.one of the boys to bring the car round, all ready to start. ” And he called over his shoulder regretfully, as he went off: “ Sorry I can ’ t do more than that. But you know what it ’ s like in the soft fruit season. We ’ re up to the eyes. ”
    “ I shall have to leave the picnic party to you, Hilda, ” Catherine said with forced cheerfulness—for, childish as it seemed, she was most grievously disappointed at the thought of missing the visit to Andrew ’ s f a rm; of seeing him gradually yielding to the spell of these happy, excited youngsters, and forgetting that he had ever disliked children.
    “ Oh, I ’ ll put up with it. ” Hilda sounded resigned. “ I must find Matron, and get her sanction; and meanwhile perhaps you ’ ll pop up to Maureen with this hot bread-and-milk. She ’ ll have to miss her dinner, even if she feels like eating, as she ’ s having gas. But if she can get this down, it may act like a poultice on that swollen jaw of hers. ”
    Determined that Maureen should have no i nkling of her keen disappointment Catherine went upstairs with the steaming bowl, and found the child curled up on her bed, under an eiderdown.
    “ Now, darling, try to take some of this, ” she said quietly, “ Miss Dewney has made it specially for you. ”
    Maureen struggled, and tried valiantly to eat the bread-and-milk. But after a few spoonfuls, the tears began to run, down her cheeks, and she shook her head distressfully.
    “ Is the pain so very bad, pet? ” Catherine ’ s voice was very soft.
    “ No, it ’ s a little better, ” the child stammered, fighting back the tears. “ But I did so want to go with you and the others to play in the hay. I—I suppose I looked too much forward. ”
    Catherine smiled, and smoothed back the rumpled black hair from the little girl ’ s hot forehead. “ Suppose I let you into a secret, ” she said, as she put aside the bowl. “ I ’ m not going to the picnic, either. Mr. Barbin is lending us his car, and you and I are going to drive to Great Garsford in state. Maybe if you feel l ike it we ’ ll be able to have tea in that new cafe afterwards—the one where the band is. ”
    It was as well she had removed the half-full basin of bread-and-milk, for Maureen ’ s reaction bordered on the violent. She flung her arms round Catherine ’ s neckband kissed her, exclaiming, half in tears, half, in laughter: “ Oh, you are a darling. I do love you so. ”
    Catherine returned the child ’ s embrace, then gently disentangled herself. “ Are you still sure you can ’ t eat any more of that bread-and-milk? ” she demanded.
    “ I ’ ll eat every bit, ” was Maureen ’ s swift