There was a flutter and flash of white macintosh in the dusky hall as Roger the elder caught his wife up in his arms and carried her into the dining-room. The door shut with a bang, and little Roger was left alone with Perkins, who blew his nose and waved the rug, exclaiming, in an excited whisper—- "Bless your ’eart, sir, you’ve done it!" Roger stood on the steps and waited; the smart little groom drove the dog-cart round and round the drive; ten minutes passed, and still father did not come. "I’m rather afraid we shall miss the ’ppointment," said Roger, and made as if to go after his parents into the dining-room; but Perkins caught him by the shoulder and pulled him out on to the steps again, exclaiming fiercely, "No, you don’t, Master Roger—not for _your_ life!" Another five minutes, then the dining-room door opened: with a swish and swither of silk petticoats his mother flew upstairs two steps at a time. "Buck up!" her husband shouted after her, and his voice sounded as though he’d got a dreadful cold; then, to Roger, "Mother is coming too, to see about the pony; and just look what a lovely day it’s turned." Roger thrust his hand into his father’s, who held it very tight, but he didn’t say anything at all. There are the makings of a statesman in Roger. *XVI* *THE STACEYS OF ELCOMBE HOUSE* After Harry went to school Paul and I had breakfast as well as lunch with father and mother, unless there happened to be a great many visitors. This was interesting because the letters came at breakfast and we heard the news. It is curious how the most epoch-making intelligence is often given quite quietly with no flourish of trumpets, no preparation; just as the most momentous decisions are almost always made at once, without much reflection. In the middle of May—I remember it was such a beautiful morning and tulips blazed in the herbaceous border opposite the window—mother looked up from her letters and said: "Measles is very bad in Fiammetta’s school. Mr. Glyn has taken her away, and as soon as the quarantine is over he wants us to have her here for the rest of the summer, as he needs to go to America this month." I couldn’t speak. It was so tremendous. Fiammetta here! for the rest of the summer! and summer had only just begun. "Well," said father, "that seems to me a very sound suggestion—but what’ll he do with Miss Sparling?" She was the lady who kept house for him. "She’ll go off on a round of visits and they’ll shut the house. We were to have the child in any case in the holidays, so it’s only a month or two sooner. It will be nice for you, Janey, to have her"—and mother smiled at me. Nice for me!