"You can have my brush and comb, Midget, if you like," suggested Pamela, lying down again in a languid manner. "Oh dear, I wish I was dead. People say when there are two of a person one always dies. I hope it’ll be me." This was very gloomy. Hughie gazed at her from under his brows as he brushed his hair. Then he looked at his hands, appeared satisfied that their condition would pass the eagle-eyed inspection of the Floweret, and walked to the door. From there he said: "If anybody dies it’ll be her," and went, closing the door quietly behind him. Pamela felt comforted. Dinner was proceeding in the dining-room, in a horribly uncomfortable manner, because the three persons present all knew of this amazing state of things, and not one knew what to say. Hughie slid into his chair and was helped to mince without comment. Miss Chance was doing her best to keep up a pretence that nothing was the matter, and welcomed her youngest pupil as an ally, but Hughie was glum. "Now," said the Floweret hopefully, "_do_ let us settle about a picnic. I am sure Hughie will side with me. Adrian, what about an alliance between boats and pedestrians--to Ramsworthy Cove, for instance--or farther; the sands at Netheroot looked so inviting when we passed the other day, I always contend there are no such sands anywhere. Come now, what do you say?" Adrian was talking to Crow in a low voice. He glanced up. "Beg your pardon, Miss Chance, I didn’t hear what you said;" then, dropping his voice, "It’s not a bit of good shutting one’s eyes to facts, Crow. I confess I don’t understand this latest business--it sounds insane--but Pamela’s hiding something up her sleeve; besides, I’ll swear she never got little Ensor up the Beak by----" "Oh, don’t go on about that, Addie. I’m sick of the very name of that cliff. If the Ensors say she did, and Reuben declares she carried him--he told me so again when I went yesterday--it’s idiotic to keep on nagging about it. Let’s drop the Beak once for all, and as for this latest business, as you call it, I won’t believe it. I refuse to believe it on the authority of Auntie A.; she’s so--well--perhaps I’d better not say what I think." It was seldom that Crow was heard to speak thus savagely. She was quite unlike herself, just as Pamela appeared to be! But she was angry, chiefly with circumstances, and in any case nothing should induce her to believe such a thing about dear old Pam. It was outrageous. Pam, who was the soul of generosity and straightforwardness, to go to Miss Ashington and tell a lie to get hold of a valuable brooch! The thing was a glaring insult to her character and to the whole Romilly family. That was Crow’s opinion. Hughie looked up at his eldest sister with approval. Christobel was so gentle that an attack from her was an event. "What do you think, Hughie?" she asked. "It’s silly," was the brief answer, "and can I have some gooseberry pie, Crow?"