"Mother's got a touch of the sun," explained Blanche hurriedly. Thrale had not yet spoken. He was considering the problem of whether he owed any duty to these wanderers, which could override his duty to Marlow. "Where have you come from?" he asked. Blanche and Millie explained volubly, by turns and together. "You see, we don't let anyone stay here," said Thrale. Blanche's eyebrows went up and she waved her too exuberant sister aside. "We're willing to work," she said. "And your mother?" queried Thrale. "And this other woman?" "Ach! I work too," put in Mrs Isaacson. "I have learnt all that is necessary for the farm. I milk and feed chickens and everything." "You'll have to come before the committee," said Thrale. "Anywhere out of the sun," replied Blanche, "and somewhere where we can put mother. She's very bad, I'm afraid." "You can stay to-night, anyway," returned Thrale. Millie made a face at him behind his back, and whispered to Mrs Isaacson, who pursed her mouth. "Well, you do seem more civilized here," remarked Blanche as the procession restarted towards Marlow. Thrale, with something of the air of a policeman, was walking by the side of the pole. "You've come at a good time," was his only comment. Millie had another shock before they reached the town. She saw what she thought was a second man, on horseback this time, coming towards them. Marlow, she thought, was evidently a place to live in. But the figure was only that of Miss Oliver in corduroy trousers, riding astride. 7