Only Alwynne, very busy over the finishing touches of Clare's birthday present, paid no attention to the state of Roger's temper. She was entirely content. The anticipation of her reunion with Clare accentuated the delights of her protracted absence. Indeed, it was not until the last morning of her visit that she noticed any change in him. That last morning, she thought resentfully, as later she considered matters in the train, he had certainly managed to spoil. Roger, her even-minded, tranquil Roger--Roger, prime sympathiser and confederate--Roger, the entirely dependable--had failed her. She did not know what had come over him. For Roger had been in a bad temper, a rotten bad temper, and heaven knew why.... Alwynne didn't.... She had been in such a jolly frame of mind herself.... She had got her packing done early, and had dashed down to breakfast, beautifully punctual--and then it all began.... She re-lived it indignantly, as the telegraph poles shot by. The bacon had sizzled pleasantly in the chafing-dish. She was standing at the window, crumbling bread to the birds. "Hulloa! You're early!" remarked Roger, entering. "Done all my packing already! Isn't that virtue?" Alwynne was intent on her pensioners. "Oh, Roger--look! There's a cuckoo. I'm sure it's a cuckoo. Jean says they come right on to the lawn sometimes. I've always wanted to see one. Look! The big dark blue one." "Starling," said Roger shortly, and sat himself down. "First day I've known you punctual," he continued sourly. "I'm going home," cried Alwynne. "I'm going home! Do you know I've been away seven weeks? It's queer that I haven't been homesick, isn't it?" "Is it?" said Roger blankly. "So, of course, I'm awfully excited," she continued, coming to the table. "Oh, Roger! In six hours I shall see Clare!" "Congratulations!" He gulped down some coffee. Alwynne looked at him, mildly surprised at his taciturnity. "I've had a lovely time," she remarked wistfully. "You've all been so good to me." Roger brightened. "The Dears are such dears," continued Alwynne with enthusiasm. "I've never had such a glorious time. It only wanted Clare to make it quite perfect. And Elsbeth, of course." "Of course," said Roger. "So often I've thought," she went on: "'Now if only Clare and Elsbeth could be coming down the road to meet us----'" she paused effectively. "I do so like my friends to know each other, don't you?" Roger was cutting bread--stale bread, to judge by his efforts. His face was growing red. "Because then I can talk about them to them," concluded Alwynne lucidly. "Jolly for them!" he commented indistinctly. Alwynne looked up. "What, Roger?" "I said, 'Jolly for them!'" "Oh!" Alwynne glanced at him in some uncertainty. Then, with a frown-- "Have you finished--already?" "Yes, thank you." "I haven't," remarked Alwynne, with sufficient point. Roger rose. "You'll excuse me, won't you? I've a busy morning ahead of me."