Dr. Tremayne focused his eyeglasses on his niece's attire. Such an aspect of the visit had never occurred to his innocent masculine mind. "Bless my life! You look very nice, both of you," he decided. "Both of us? _I'm_ not asked, thank goodness," declared Merle, who had overheard the interview and emerged from the sanctuary of the doorway now the coast was clear. "It wouldn't matter, child. I'm sure Mrs. Glyn Williams would be pleased to see you. It was stupid of me not to mention you were here too." "I'm so _thankful_ you didn't." "Am _I_ to be the solitary victim?" asked Mavis's plaintive voice in its most injured tone. "Go with your sister, Merle," urged Dr. Tremayne, who felt rather in a quandary. "No, Uncle David, dear," replied Merle firmly. "If I wasn't invited I wasn't, and it wouldn't be manners to turn up. I'll go with you to the Sanatorium if you'll take me," and she added privately to Mavis: "If one of us had to be asked to tea at The Warren I'm glad it's you. Gwen can't bear me, and it was I who said the nasty things to that boy in the lane. What's his name? Tudor! He deserved them, of course, but it would make me shy to meet him again. You always get on much more pleasantly with people than I do." "We shall have to tell Bevis we're off in the car," said Mavis disconsolately. They found Bevis already at his bench in the tool-shed and evidently expecting them. His face fell at their news, and, though they both did their very best to explain the situation, he remained glum, and seemed to think they wished to avoid his company. "Oh, it's quite all right!" he remarked, and that was all they could get out of him. He took up his mallet, and commenced to hammer so vigorously that they fled from the noise. "He says it doesn't matter, but he's fearfully huffy and offended," whispered Merle. "Well, we can't help it. Everything has gone wrong to-day," sighed Mavis. There was no time to put things right with Bevis, for Dr. Tremayne was hooting for them to start at once. He set Mavis down at the great gate of The Warren, and took Merle on with him to the Sanatorium. Mavis walked very solemnly up the laurel-bordered drive. She seldom went anywhere without her sister, and hated paying this stately visit alone. She rang the bell, feeling shy and frightened, and painfully conscious of the conspicuously darned rent in her skirt. She wondered if Tudor would have explained its origin.