‘I’d like to pick her up and shake her into life. Make her smile and be young. Make her cheeks pink and her eyes bright,’ said Jennifer. ‘If I were a man I’d fall bang in love with her. What is her name do you think? Jessica? Anne? Rosa?’ ‘Miriam.’ ‘Yes, Miriam.’ How the remembered insignificant words brought flooding back the irrecoverable quality of that day! Tits and robins, perching all around them, and the golden-eyed dog, had helped them to finish their meal. Then they had lain back in their chairs, staring and saying nothing. And then it was that Jennifer had turned and broken the silence with her quiet, inevitable-seeming declaration; and after it Judith had reached out to touch her hand for a moment; and continued to sit beside her and dream. Later in the afternoon they had seen grey-flannelled legs approaching and risen to go. They met the dark girl walking down the gravel path towards the orchard, carrying a trayful of crockery. ‘We’ve come to pay you,’ said Jennifer radiantly smiling. She gave the price without a flicker. ‘Judith, have you that much on you, darling?’ said Jennifer, and added, turning again to the girl: ‘We _have_ so enjoyed ourselves.’ There was no response save a quick suspicious glance. Currant bushes, wallflowers, narcissi, pansies, yellow daisies and tulips blossomed richly on each side of the path. ‘What a delicious garden!’ said Jennifer. ‘It’s at its very best, isn’t it?’ ‘It’s looking nice,’ she admitted. Jennifer pointed to a clump of stiff, serious purple-black tulips. ‘Those tulips are like you,’ she said, her eyes and mouth, all her glowing face, coaxing and appealing. And suddenly the girl gave a little laugh, looking with soft eyes first at Jennifer, then away, shyly and deprecatingly, as who should say: ‘The idea! Me like a tulip! Well, you _are_ a one--Daft ...’ but gratified and amused all the same. ‘I shall always think of you when I see tulips like that,’ said Jennifer. ‘Good-bye!’ ‘Good-bye, Miss....’ She smiled, almost mischievously this time, and hurried on with her tray. ‘She was quite human,’ said Jennifer. ‘I wonder if she’s got a lover or if she’s longing for one, or if she’s been jilted, or what.... What makes her all shadowy and tight inside herself?’ She stood looking after the girl, as if meditating going back to ask her. How Jennifer struck sparks from ordinary people! She knew how to live. To be with her was to meet adventure; to see, round every corner, the bush become the burning bush. In a little while she would have forgotten the girl whose problem was now so urgent and exciting; but you yourself would always remember,--seeing it all dramatically, seeing it as a quiet story, hearing it as an unknown tune: making of it a water colour painting in gay foolish colours, or an intricate pencil pattern of light and shadow. They left the Orchard. ‘I think,’ said Jennifer, ‘we will never come here again.’