Her pleasure in her own popularity was innocent enough. Nevertheless she glanced uneasily in the direction of Roger Lumsden more than once during the evening. He was very big and busy in his corner helping his aunts, but she felt herself under observation. She had an odd idea that he was amused at her. She thought he might have enquired if she needed help during the long evening, when the little Parish Hall was grown crowded. Once, indeed, she signed to him across the room to come and talk to her, but he laughed and shook his head, and turned again to an old mother, absorbed in a pile of flannel petticoats. Alwynne was not pleased. But when the sale had come to its triumphant end, and the stall-holders stood about in little groups, counting coppers and comparing gains--it was Roger who discovered Alwynne, laughing a trifle mechanically at the jokes of the ancient rector, and came to her rescue. She found herself in the cool outer air, hat and scarf miraculously in place. "Jean and Alicia are driving, they won't be long after us. I thought you'd rather walk. That room was a furnace," said Roger, with solicitude. She drew a deep breath. "It was worth it to get this. Isn't it cool and quiet? I like this black and white road. Doesn't the night smell delicious?" "It's the cottage gardens," he said. "Wallflowers and briar and old man. Better than all your acres of glass, after all," she insinuated mischievously. Then, with a change of tone, "Oh, dear, I am tired." "You'd better hang on to my arm," said Roger promptly. "That's better. Of course you're tired. If you insist on running the entire show----" "Then you did think that?" Alwynne gave instant battle. "I knew you did. I saw you laugh. I can walk by myself, thank you." But her dignity edged her into a cart-rut, for Roger did not deviate from the middle of the lane. He laughed. "You're a consistent young woman--I'm as sure of a rise----You'd better take my arm. Alwynne! You're not to say 'Damn.'" A puddle shone blackly, and Alwynne, nose in air, had stepped squarely into it. She ignored his comments. "I wasn't interfering. I had to help where I could. They asked me to. Besides--I liked it." "Of course you did." She looked up quickly. "Did I really do anything wrong? Did I push myself forward?" "You made the whole thing go," he said seriously. "A triumph, Alwynne. The rector's your friend for life." "Then why do you grudge it?" She was hurt. "Do I?" "You laugh at me." "Because I was pleased." "With me?" "With my thoughts. You've enjoyed yourself, haven't you?" She nodded. "I never dreamed it would be such fun." She laughed shyly. "I like people to like me." "Now, come," he said. "Wasn't it quite as amusing as a prize-giving?" She looked up at him, puzzled. He was switching with his stick at the parsley-blooms, white against the shadows of the hedge. "I suppose your goal is a head mistress-ship?" he suggested off-handedly.