"Hullo," he exclaimed suddenly, reading on the pane that was scrabbled with mottoes cut by himself in idle moments with the glazier's pencil: _The fresh green lap of fair King Richard's land. Michael Fane. June 24._ "That's to-day! Then Michael must be here. What an extraordinary thing!" Guy looked round the room for any sign of his friend; but there was nothing except the Shakesperean record of his presence. Pauline felt hurt that he should be so much interested in a friend, when but a moment ago he had brought her here as if her presence were the only thing that counted for his evening's pleasure. "I must find out where he is," exclaimed Guy. Now he wanted to be rid of her, thought Pauline, and for the first time, when he had kissed her, she kissed him coldly in response. More bitter still was the thought that he did not remonstrate: he had not noticed. Pauline said she must hurry away, and Guy did not persuade her to stop. Oh, how she hated this friend of his; she had no one in whom she would be even mildly interested when she was with Guy. He took her home in the canoe, speculating all the way about Michael Fane's whereabouts; and as Pauline went across the Rectory paddock there were tears of mortification in her eyes that sometimes burnt as hotly even as with jealousy's rage. Her mother was on the lawn, when she got back, and Pauline blinked her eyes a good deal to throw the blame of tears upon the sun. "Ah, you're back. Let's take a little walk round the garden," said Mrs. Grey in the nervous manner that told of something on her mind. They went into the larger wall-garden and walked along the wide herbaceous borders through a blaze of snapdragons that here all day had been swallowing the sunshine. "Where did you go with Guy?" her mother asked. "We went down the river, and they're cutting the grass in the big meadow and then afterwards...." "Oh, Pauline, afterwards you went into Guy's house with him?" Pauline nodded. "I know. I was just going to tell you." "Pauline, how could you do such a thing?" "I only went to say good-night. I wasn't there five minutes." Why should an action so simple be vexing her mother? "Are you angry with me for going?" "You must never do such a thing again," said Mrs. Grey more crossly than Pauline had ever heard her. "Monica saw you go in as she was walking down Shipcot hill, and she has just this moment come and told me." "But why shouldn't I go in and say good-night?" Pauline asked. "There were people in the churchyard. I thought it was better to say good-night in the house." Her mother was tremulously pink with vexation, and Pauline looked at her in surprize. It was really unaccountable that such a trifling incident as going into Guy's house could have made her as angry as this. She must have offended her in some other way. "Mother, what have I done to annoy you?"