‘Pile in,’ said Martin. ‘Mariella, I _can’t_ let you drive my new car. You do understand, don’t you, angel?’ ‘I’m not at all a good driver,’ said Mariella, smiling vaguely round upon them all. ‘I smashed Martin’s car to pieces last year, didn’t I, Martin? I ran it into a wall. He was awfully nice about it.’ ‘He’s an awfully nice man,’ said Julian, putting his hand on Martin’s shoulder. Martin was the only one who ever received obvious marks of affection from the rest. They all treated him in the same way--with a sort of teasing tenderness. ‘Judith, will you come in front with me? And Mariella and Julian, you go there.... Yes, that’s right. Will you be comfortable? Are you all quite happy?’ Martin was terribly anxious lest there should be a hitch. Everyone had got to enjoy the picnic. ‘Is the food in? _And_ the drink? Who’s got the opener? Oh, I have. Mariella, remember that this is Julian’s Day in the Country and don’t sit there and never open your mouth, but point out objects of interest as we go along, and any country sight or sound you happen to notice. Are we ready then? To Monk’s Water, isn’t it?’ The car swooped up the drive. ‘Is Martin safe?,’ cried Julian, clinging to Mariella. ‘I don’t believe he’s safe. If he goes fast I shall jump out. Oh, let’s stay at home and have a picnic in the garden. Don’t let’s go away from this nice house and see objects of interest. I didn’t mean it when I suggested it. I never wanted to. Oh, why can’t you ever see a joke any of you? Oh!...’ He subsided with a groan and shut his eyes as Martin swung round the corner and out on to the road. Mariella was giggling like a little girl, Martin was grinning, everybody was in the proper picnic mood. But where was Roddy? ‘Martin, what’s happened to Roddy?’ ‘Oh, Roddy,’ said Martin. ‘Poor old Roddy’s got a headache.’ ‘A headache?’ Something leapt painfully in her. ‘Yes. We left him lying down. The idiot would play tennis all yesterday in the broiling sun without a hat, and the consequence is a touch of the sun I suppose. He kept me awake most of the night shivering and warning me he was going to be sick. He looked awful at breakfast I must say,--bright yellow; so we gave him an aspirin and put him on the sofa and left him.’ ‘Left him, Martin? But oughtn’t someone to have stayed with him?’ ‘O Lord, no. He’ll sleep it off and be all right to-morrow. His temper was his worst trouble, so we thought we’d keep away.’ Martin laughed cheerfully, as if he were amused about Roddy’s headache. How cruel, how callous people were! They called themselves his friends and they left him ill and alone, and went off to enjoy themselves. He might get worse during the day: he might be sickening for a serious illness.