“If my tin Lizzie can be of any use, I’ll drive anyone anywhere,” said Christopher Ambrey eagerly. “And in Lizzie’s case there’s no need to consider the springs, as there aren’t any to speak of. Look here, I suggest that if you and General Kendal can really find room for Sallie, I should drive Mrs. Fazackerly in, and--and then you can take, say, Patch. I’m sure Patch ought to be there to settle about the clothes and things--or Martyn. I should think Martyn ought to go, if anyone does, to make sure you get the right things for those boots.” “We’re only going to buy materials--not clothes,” said Sallie. “But, still, I daresay that Martyn could be quite useful.” “I think Bill had better go,” Martyn firmly declared. “I can’t. It’s awfully good of you, Mrs. Kendal, but my partner will do all that far better than I could.” He smiled at Mrs. Fazackerly, who was smiling back at him happily, when the unexpected sound of old Carey’s voice suddenly and completely extinguished the brightness in her face. “Nancy can go with you, Mrs. Kendal, as you’re kind enough to propose it, and there are one or two things I want done in the town. Nancy can see to them.” Sallie’s clear, intelligent gaze went from one to the other of them. She sees a great deal, but she has not yet learned how to look as though she didn’t see it. “If Martyn and I may go with you, Mrs. Kendal, we’ll sit in the back of the car and rehearse to one another. (Yes, Martyn, we must--time is frightfully short, and you know how woolly you are about your words.) And then Chris can take Nancy, and we can all meet somewhere for tea. What time, Mrs. Kendal?” Sallie is always so confident, and decisive, and resolute, that she can carry things off with a high hand. Old Carey subsided again and Mrs. Kendal said, some seven or eight times, that as they always had tiffin early at Dheera Dhoon--“a reminiscence of our Indian days, I’m afraid--” she thought that they had better start at two o’clock. “Besides,” said Captain Patch to me, aside, “I believe it takes the General nearly an hour to do the ten miles.” At the last minute, the whole thing was nearly wrecked by General Kendal, who suddenly observed: “Then I am to have the pleasure of driving you, Mrs. Fazackerly? I hope that you will not feel nervous. I am something of a tyro still, but I believe I am a careful driver.” “Thank you--not a bit--but--” “I think Sallie goes with you, General,” said Christopher. And I saw Claire look round at the tone in which he said it. Then the rehearsal broke up. Sallie and Martyn disappeared, but Mary Ambrey stayed and had lunch with us. As soon as the servants had left the dining room, Claire wrung her hands together and looked despairing. “Did you notice Christopher?” she asked in husky misery. “Surely, surely he couldn’t?” Of course, both Mary and I knew what she meant. We had heard her say the same thing so often.