"Just a little bit, George!" "Not a little bit." "Very well," she said humbly, and rose too. "I may never see you again, so I'll say good-bye." "Good-bye," he answered, and held her hand. "And if I don't go away, and if I feel that I don't want to play with you, but just to--well, really to be friends with you, can I be?" "I don't know," he said slowly. "I don't trust you." She nodded, teasing her lip again. "Very well," she repeated. "I shall remember. Yes. You're going to be very unhappy, you know." "Why?" he asked dully. "For saying that to me." "But it's the truth." She shook her little hands at him and spoke loudly. "You seem to think the truth's excuse enough for anything, but you're wrong, George, and if you were worth it, I should hate you." Then she turned from him, and as he watched her run towards home he wished he had lied to her and risked bewitchment. CHAPTER V The efforts of Mildred Caniper, Helen and Mrs. Samson produced a brighter polish on floors and furniture, a richer brilliance from brass, a whiter gleam from silver, in a house which was already irreproachable, and the smell of cleanliness was overcome by that of wood fires in the sitting-rooms and in Christopher where Uncle Alfred was to sleep. A bowl of primroses, brought by John from Lily Brent's garden and as yellow as her butter, stood on a table near the visitor's bed: the firelight cast shadows on the white counterpane, a new rug was awaiting Uncle Alfred's feet. In the dining-room, the table was spread with the best cloth and the candles were ready to be lighted. "When we see the trap," Miriam said, "I'll go round with a taper. And we'd better light the lamp in the kitchen passage or Uncle Alfred may trip over something when he hangs up his coat." "There won't be anything for him to trip over," Helen said. "How do you know? It's just the sort of accident that happens to families that want to make a good impression. We'd better do it. Where are the steps?" "The lamp hasn't been trimmed for months, and we can't have a smell of oil. Leave it alone. The hall is so beautifully dim. Rupert must take his coat and hang it up for him." "Very well," Miriam said resignedly; "but if Notya or John had suggested the lamp, you would have jumped at it." "No, I should have fetched the steps." "Oh, funny, funny! Now I'm going to dress." "There are two hours." "It will take me as long as that. What shall I wear? Black or red? It's important, Helen. Tell me." "Black is safer." "Yes, if only I had pearls. I should look lovely in black and pearls." "Pearls," Helen said slowly, "would suit me." "You're better without them." "I shall never have them." "When I've a lot of money I'll give you some." "Thank you," Helen said. "Because," Miriam called out when she was half way up the stairs, "I'm going to marry a rich man." "It would be wise," Helen answered, and went to the open door.