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frightened.’
    ‘Oh, dear - it gave me such a start.’ Mrs. Shannon pressed her hands to her chest. ‘It sounded just like that aeroplane which crashed in the field during the war.’
    ‘It was the beech tree,’ Jenny said flatly. ‘Didn’t Mr.
    Gilchrist tell you? He’s cutting all our lovely old trees down.’ She looked at him across the room. ‘It will give us a better view of his masterpiece of Space Age architecture,’
    she added, with icy scorn.

CHAPTER TWO
    ‘Only one tree, Miss Shannon,’ Simon Gilchrist said blandly.
    ‘And I’ve explained the reason for it to your grandparents.
    I’m sorry the crash alarmed you, Mrs. Shannon.’
    ‘You needn’t apologize, Mr. Gilchrist. You did warn us.
    But I didn’t realize what a very loud noise it would make as it fell.’
    ‘It is my granddaughter who must apologize, Gilchrist,’
    said the Rector severely. ‘Your behaviour astonishes me, Jennifer.’
    His tone made Jenny’s cheeks burn. She knew he must be very angry from the way he called her by her full name. It was years since she had received such a sharp reprimand.

    ‘I think Miss Shannon’s annoyance is understandable sir,’
    said Simon Gilchrist, with maddening tolerance. ‘It is a pity the beech tree has had to come down, but, as I said, it blocks out the evening sun. And there are plenty of other mature trees on the site.’ He shot an amused grey glance at Jenny’s flushed, resentful face. ‘I daresay Miss Shannon didn’t mean to sound quite so ... vehement. I used to fly off the handle myself at her age.’
    There was an uncomfortable pause. Jenny knew that her grandparents were waiting for her to retract her angry outburst. For a moment, she rebelled. Why should she apologize? He did not care what she thought of him. Then a glance at her grandmother’s distressed and anxious face made her resolution waver.
    The words almost choking her, she said, ‘I’m sorry if I was rude. It - it was a shock to see the beech coming down, but I shouldn’t have lost my temper.’
    Mrs. Shannon gave a little sigh of relief. ‘Well ... shall we have tea? Do some and sit down, Mr. Gilchrist. I’ve been meaning to ask you why you’ve had so much ground dug out? Is it for a cellar, perhaps? We have one ourselves, of course, like most large old houses. But I thought they were no longer built?’
    ‘No, as a rule they are not,’ he agreed, taking the chair she had indicated. ‘A properly damp-proofed cellar is considered too costly nowadays, although they’re still common on the Continent, and the timber houses of North America nearly all have a basement of some sort.
    Personally, I think they’re an excellent feature. In the case of my own house, the basement will form a garage with a boiler-room and plenty of storage space. So many modern houses have totally inadequate storage, and are far too cramped in every way.’
    ‘Our problem is just the reverse,’ Mrs. Shannon said wryly. ‘We have far more space than we need. We are very attached to this house because we have lived here so long.
    But now that we are getting on in life I think we should really be more comfortable in a nice little modern bungalow.’

    ‘This is a very handsome room,’ he said, glancing round the high-ceilinged, spacious sitting-room with its elaborately moulded cornice, tall windows and high marble fireplace.
    It was a room which for many years had been spoiled by a hideous wallpaper, brown paintwork and heavy drab curtains, all inherited from the previous incumbent and unchanged by the Shannons because there were so many other calls on the Rector’s stipend.
    But the previous summer, Jenny had persuaded them to let her tackle a complete redecoration. Now the walls were painted primrose, to give an illusion of sunlight on the greyest winter afternoon, the paintwork was white, and the windows were framed by folds of glowing, inexpensive coral repp.
    ‘Ah, this is Jenny’s doing,’ Mrs. Shannon explained, with an