"When will lunch be ready, mother? Miss Strangeways must stay to lunch in honour of my return. We'll go a little turn round the grounds and be back in half an hour. Then I'll ride over with her, and see Miggles while you have your rest." A shade of disappointment passed over Mrs Rendall's face. It was hard to allow her son to pass out of her sight for even half an hour, but she assented quietly, after the manner of mothers of grown-up sons, and the two young people strolled out into the garden. The geranium beds were bare and brown, but the lawn was still a velvety green and the belt of evergreen trees presented a similitude of summer. Piers led the way forward, and Vanna followed, a smile upon her lips. "The Happy Land?" "The Happy Land. Naturally! It is an appropriate walk for you to-day. No need to ask how it goes. You look blooming--a different girl from when you were here last. And you really like it--this buried-alive existence? When I heard of the arrangement I could not believe it would last beyond a few weeks. It seemed unnatural--unfair. But you have stood it out. You have not been lonely?" Vanna hesitated. They stood at the entrance to the glen, looking down through a network of bare branches on the stream beneath. The ground was covered with a carpet of leaves, the sweet, soft smell of earth rose refreshingly in the wintry air. "Yes," she said slowly. "I have been lonely, but--remember that I am bound to look on the bright side of things in this place!--I have had compensations. I am needed here. Miggles could not be left alone with a servant, and there is a great satisfaction in feeling oneself necessary. This new home was offered to me at a moment when I was adrift in the world, and every one in it is kind and loving. I have every comfort, and a dear luxury in the shape of Dinah. I am becoming quite an experienced horsewoman, and it is impossible to feel depressed after a gallop across the downs. And you know Miggles! It's rather wonderful to live beside a person who is preparing for death as cheerfully and happily as most people prepare for a holiday. We talk about it every day, but never gloomily. In a peaceful kind of way she's excited at the prospect. Quite suddenly she will exclaim, `Oh, I shall see Emma. I haven't seen Emma since we were girls at school. I shall have so _much_ to tell Emma.' And she is full of interest as to her new work. It is to be helping her earth friends. That's quite decided. `It's what I have been trained for, dear. It stands to reason I must go on.' And she has quite definite ideas of what ought to be done--things that, according to her judgment, have been overlooked, and concerning which she can--very tactfully!--drop a gentle reminder. She has a mission on hand for each one of us. You are to receive special attention." The young man smiled affectionately.