during the next week betty’s thoughts were continually winging across the square to her new friend, mrs vanburgh, though her own time was so fully occupied, that, with the exception of a sudden encounter in the street, they did not see anything of each other until the great saturday arrived.

meantime it rankled in jill’s mind that she had been unfairly treated, and, in consequence, she was constantly endeavouring to hit on some scheme which would at once vindicate her own importance and put betty’s adventure in the shade. general digby, as a new and striking personality in her small circle of acquaintances, naturally suggested himself as a fitting object for the enterprise, and she lost no time in consulting her ally.

“i say, jack, when you saw the ‘victim’ home the other night, did you notice the address?”

“what do you take me for, silly? i have eyes, haven’t i? of course i noticed it.”

“you may have eyes, but you certainly haven’t a memory. do you happen to remember where it was?”

“no, i don’t, but i wrote it down in my pocket-book, so i could soon find out if i wanted to. why?”

“because i think we ought to call and ask how he is.”

“father says he’s all right except for his gout.”

“i know—but it would be polite to call. mother always does, even when she knows they are better. and as we were the—er—what do you call it?—cause of the accident—”

“innocent?”

“no, that’s not it! a much finer word—un—un—unwitting!—that’s it, so it’s all the more proper that we should inquire. how far off is it? could we meet and go together after school this afternoon?”

“it’s near enough, as far as that goes—one of those swagger flats in prince’s square. i suppose we could manage all right. will you tell mother about it?”

“not till we get back. i am sure she would think it very nice and kind of us, but she’d want me to put on best things, and worry about my hair. i wish i’d been born a savage! i do so loathe being bothered about clothes.”

“never mind. no one would think to look at you that you ever bothered about them at all,” quoth jack, with somewhat unflattering sympathy. “i’ll wait for you at the corner of prince’s square. i’m not going to meet all those sniggering girls if i know it.”

so it was arranged, and jill swelled with importance for the rest of the day, longing for four o’clock to arrive, and set her free from her duties.

pam went to the door with her sister after lunch, and stood shivering upon the top step while they exchanged farewells. she herself attended only the morning school, and was apt to find the afternoons rather lonely when the twins were out, and betty was absorbed in her studies.

“come back quickly,” she pleaded. “do come back quickly, and ’muse me!” and jill nodded a bright assent.

“i’ll amuse you finely—when i come!”

she pranced off, tossing back her hair, and swinging her satchel to and fro, while pam looked after her with admiring envy. how lovely to be old like that—quite old—old enough to do your own hair, and walk to school by yourself! pam heaved another sigh, and glanced wistfully up and down the square—the look of a captive who longs to escape. a policeman was strolling along his beat. emily and hannah were taking their places in the old-fashioned barouche preparatory to starting on their afternoon amble. just across the road old “all a-growing all a-blowing” was standing by his barrow, loudly urging a passer-by to purchase one of his plants.

pam looked longingly at the branching palms as his guttural accents came to her ear—

“buy a palm, lidy, won’t you, lidy? very cheap—cheaper than you could buy ’em anywhere in the city. if you’ve got such a thing as an old dress or a pair of trousers, of the master’s, i’d allow you ’ansome for them. i’d rather have clothes nor money. i’m a married man, lidy, with a fam’ly of children—”

“pam, pam,” cried mrs trevor’s voice, “don’t stand out there, darling. it’s far too cold. come in here to me.”

pam obediently shut the door, and settled down to the afternoon duties of plain sewing and practice, which her soul abhorred. it was characteristic of her that she never rebelled against authority, nor expressed her distaste in words. a meek, uncomplaining little martyr, she sat perched on the piano-stool, wrestling with the “blue bells of scotland,” the while the wildest rebellion surged within her soul.

“i wish pianos had never been born! i wish i’d been made a boy. when i’m a lidy,” (unconscious intonation of “all a-blowing!”) “i’ll have no pianos in the house, nor no needles, and my little girls shall ’muse themselves however they like. the—blue—bells—of—scot—land... it doesn’t go a bit nice in the bass! don’t believe i shall ever get it right if i live a hundred thousand years?”

the moment school was over jill made a rush for the dressing-room, scrambled into her outdoor clothes, and hurried to the appointed meeting-place, where jack found her a few minutes later. it was already dusk, and they set off at a brisk trot towards the mansions in which general digby’s flat was situated, in great hopes of finding that gentleman at home and disengaged.

“it’s too damp for him to be out. gout’s a kind of rheumatism, and that always has to be kept dry,” jill declared learnedly. “he’s sure to be in, but i’ve got a card, just in case. it’s a correspondence one cut down, and i’ve printed our names on it, and ‘kind inquiries’ in the corner, like mother puts. it’s fine! when i cough it will mean that i don’t know what to say next, so you must go on while i think. if he asks us to stay to tea, we must say we can’t, until he begs us again.”

“but suppose he didn’t—that would be a pretty sell! i shan’t do anything so silly,” said cautious jack. “i’ll accept at once.”

“well—perhaps. but it’s politer to make a fuss. is it a man who opens the door, or a woman?”

“a man—looks like an old soldier himself.”

“what’s the proper way to tell him our names?”

“jack and mary trevor, of course.”

“it isn’t! miss mary trevor and master jack trevor, if you please!”

“if you’re miss, i’m mister. i’m not going to be called ‘master,’ as if i were a kid!”

“all right, then—miss and mr trevor. i’ll speak, because i’m the lady, and give him the card to carry up.”

jack was not at all anxious to take the lead, so he assented by means of the usual grunt, and when the door of the flat was reached, and the man-servant appeared in response to a furious onslaught on the electric bell, he stood by silently while jill conducted operations.

“does a gentleman called general digby live here?”

“he does, madam.”

jill gave a toss to her saucy head. she had never before been addressed as “madam,” and the sensation was distinctly agreeable.

“we want to see him, please.”

the butler looked in hesitating fashion from one of the strange visitors to the other—jill with her elfin locks, shabby hat and thick woollen gloves; jack with his hands thrust deep into his pockets, his school cap at the back of his head.

“i am not sure, madam, that the general is receiving this afternoon.”

“then please take in my card and inquire,” returned jill with a burst of dignity, which surprised herself and rilled jack with admiration.

the butler also looked distinctly impressed, though the card itself, when produced from the recesses of jill’s pocket, had somewhat lost its first crispness and beauty. he placed it on a silver salver and disappeared down the passage, while the twins peered curiously through the doorway.

old guns, swords, and curious-looking eastern weapons hung against the wall; stags’ heads peered over the different doorways; a great glass-case of stuffed birds stood on a table. “hidjus!” thought jill. “ripping!” thought jack, his mind turning longingly to the exciting scenes of sport in which these trophies had been captured. he had time to examine them pretty thoroughly before the servant returned, but when he did make his appearance he brought with him the desired answer. the general was “at home,” and would be pleased to receive miss and mr trevor forthwith.