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come to tea.”
    “We didn’t expect you this week,” said Jenny. Her colour had risen. She looked very pretty indeed.
    Mac smiled at her. He might do worse. He might do much worse. She could have been a plain lump, and here she was, very far from being plain. Very, very far indeed.
    Alan had the two little girls one in each arm and was swinging them. Mac leaned a little closer to Jenny and dropped his voice.
    “Have you missed me, Jen?” he said softly.
    “A little—perhaps—”
    “Perhaps a lot?”
    And with that there was a good resounding crash. Alan had tripped over a chair and was down with a tangle of shrieking, excited little girls. Jenny sprang to her feet.
    “Oh, my goodness! What are you up to, Alan?”
    “I’m not up at all—I’m d-down,” he said laughing and got up, his hair rumpled.
    Jenny seized Meg with one hand and Joyce with the other.
    “Shocking children! Now behave, or I’ll send the boys away.”
    “Oh, you wouldn’t do that!” said Meg.
    “Oh, Jenny darling!” said Joyce.
    Mac and Alan struck an attitude and repeated her words, “Oh, Jenny darling!” and the whole group dissolved into laughter.
    Looking back on it afterwards, Jenny thought that was her last happy time with them—her very last, though she didn’t know it. She only felt happy, and as if the old bad times had gone away and would never come again.
    It went on being happy. The little girls, protesting, were removed by Carter. They could go to tea with Nanny any time, they said.
    “Just any time at all, Carter—you know we can! But we can’t have Mac and Alan to tea with us—only once in a blue moon!” they protested.
    Carter was very firm indeed.
    “I don’t know when I heard such nonsense,” she said. “It’s come out quite bright and clear, and the rain over as anyone can see. And Nanny’s been making cakes for you all morning, I shouldn’t wonder.”
    “Will she have made the sort that has chocolate icing on it?” said Joyce in a hopeful tone.
    “I shouldn’t wonder,” said Carter more indulgently.
    Their protests had grown feebler. They hadn’t had much hope of being let off. They went away to be washed and dressed, and finally set out, the very picture of two good obedient little girls.
    When Jenny got back to the schoolroom she found only Alan there. He said,
    “Mac’s gone to the Raxalls.”
    Jenny felt a quite sickening disappointment. He didn’t care—he didn’t care a bit. Oh well, if he didn’t care, then she didn’t either. Or did she? She couldn’t answer that, but the question went on in her as she got tea for Alan and herself and talked to him about his plans for the future.
    Chapter VII
    I’m really very glad that Mac has gone for Mother,” said Alan. “I don’t often get a chance t-to talk to you alone.”
    Jenny smiled in an absent way. She was wondering whether it was a party that Mac had gone to, and whether Anne Gillespie would be there. She had to give herself a little mental pull and to come all the way back from the Raxalls. You couldn’t do that in a moment. She thought that Mac and Anne would make a splendid pair. They were both all fair and golden, with dark blue eyes and the darker lashes which showed up the blue. She came to herself with a jerk.
    “What did you say, Alan? I was thinking of something else.”
    Alan looked hurt. When he was hurt he stammered more than usual. He said with an angry rush of syllables,
    “You w-weren’t l-listening! You n-never do l-listen when it’s m-me!”
    Jenny was conscious of guilt. The consciousness put colour into her cheeks and a soft light into her eyes.
    “Oh, Alan—I’m so sorry. I—I was just thinking of something else.” Her colour burned brighter as she remembered what she had been thinking of.
    That raised colour went to Alan’s head. He took it for what it certainly was not, an interest in him. He reached out across the tea-table and caught at the hand which was offering him cake.
    “Jenny, you’ve