It had seemed to her, but that might have been only her fancy, that the pace, obviously set by Jervis, quickened rather as they swept past the little gate through which he and she had gone on their way to the porch, on their way to--to Paradise. * * * * * Half-way through the morning there came an uncertain knock at the front door of the Trellis House. It presaged a note brought by one of the young Robeys for Mrs. Otway--a note written by Jervis Blake, telling her of his good fortune, and explaining that he had not time to come and thank her in person for all her many kindnesses to him. One sentence ran: "The War Office order is that I come and report myself as soon as possible--so of course I had to take the ten-twenty-five train." And he signed himself, as he had never done before, "Your affectionate JERVIS BLAKE." Mrs. Otway felt mildly excited, and really pleased. "Rose will be very glad to hear this!" she said to herself, and at once sought out her daughter. Rose was still upstairs, in the roomy, rather dark old linen cupboard which was the pride of Anna's German heart. "A most extraordinary thing has happened. Jervis Blake is to have a commission after all, darling! He had a letter from the War Office this morning. I suppose it's due to his father's influence." And as Rose answered, in what seemed an indifferent voice, "I should think, mother, that it's due to the War," Mrs. Otway exclaimed, "Oh no. I don't think so! What could the War have to do with it? But whatever it's due to, I'm very, very pleased that the poor boy has attained the wish of his heart. He's written me such a very nice note, apologising for not coming to say good-bye to us. He doesn't mention you in his letter, but I expect you'll hear from him in a day or two. He generally does write during the holidays, doesn't he, Rose?" "Yes," said Rose quietly. "Jervis has always written to me during the holidays, up to now." As she spoke, the girl turned again to the shelves laden with the linen, much of which had been beautifully embroidered and trimmed with crochet lace by good old Anna's clever hands. Mrs. Otway had a curious sensation, one she very, very seldom had--that of being dismissed. Somehow it was clear that Rose was not as interested in the piece of good news as her mother had thought she would be. And so Mrs. Otway went downstairs again, grieving a little at her child's curious, cold indifference to the lot of one who had been so much in and out of their house during the last two years. Eager for sympathy, she went into the kitchen. "Oh, Anna," she exclaimed, "Mr. Blake is going into the Army after all! I'm so pleased. He is so happy!"