Dennis’s whole mind was fixed on this other puzzling matter. But at his mother’s voice he seemed to detach himself. “Yes: her love,” he said. “And I’m going to write to her to-morrow--so’s Father: two letters, and a motor’s going up to London to take them to her. And it’ll bring her down here, we think.” Colin turned to Violet. “Darling, you’ll be nice to her, won’t you?” he said. “It’s so long ago, all that misunderstanding.... And she loves Stanier. I was going to tell you, of course.” Violet felt there was no need for explanation; she knew Colin. He had represented to Dennis evidently that Aunt Hester never came to Stanier, because of some bygone quarrel between herself and her. Dennis had asked why she never came--it must be like that--and that had been the answer. Then Colin had concocted just such a plot as a boy loves, to ask her in spite of it and bring Mother and her together.... Colin was the peacemaker, she was the person to be propitiated.... The wonderful falsity of it all! There was nothing too small nor too great for Colin in the accomplishment of his ends. Here there was no question of what his ends were: they were the wooing of Dennis by him, the detachment of Dennis from herself. She could not sit down under this. “But it was you who turned her out, Colin,” she said. “You quarrelled with her; you sent her away. What have you been telling Dennis?” Colin was seated next her. He laid his hand on hers. “Darling, before the servants....” he said gently. “Besides, it’s all over, years ago.” Old Lady Yardley was looking fixedly at Dennis again. “He’s growing up,” she said. “Soon he must make his choice. Staniers will never fail as long as they choose wisely and well. I am an autumn leaf now on the old tree, but the sap hasn’t left me yet, and though the leaves fall, fresh leaves come. This is a beautiful young leaf: it is spring-time with the tree again, and the birds are singing in its branches. It will always be spring at Stanier, if they take care of the young leaves.” Colin turned from Violet to her. “Granny dear, the spirit of prophecy is upon you, but you really mustn’t prophesy at dinner. Everyone finds it so disconcerting, darling. Now there are some friends of mine coming to-morrow, and you must promise me not to prophesy at dinner. Otherwise you shall have dinner upstairs and no whist at all.” For once she paid no attention to him. “I watched them building twelve years ago,” she said. “They made a chapel for the prosperity of Stanier. Aha! That makes the legend thrive----”