Slowly she realised that neither Roger nor Elsbeth were finding her indispensable, and her surprise was only rivalled by her indignation. Elsbeth particularly--it was simply beastly of Elsbeth--was being, in her impalpable way, unapproachable.... She was angry about something.... Alwynne knew the signs.... She, Alwynne, supposed that she ought to have written.... But she did write a postcard.... One couldn't be everlastingly writing letters.... Any one but Elsbeth would have waived the matter, with a visitor present, but Elsbeth was so vindictive.... Here Alwynne's rebellious conscience allied itself with her sense of humour, to protest against the picture of a vindictive Elsbeth. They bubbled with tender laughter at the idea. Alwynne must needs laugh with them, a trifle remorsefully, and admit that the idea was fantastic; that Elsbeth, in all the years she had known her, had been the most meek and forgiving of guardians; and that she, Alwynne, had been undeniably negligent. Nevertheless, why must Elsbeth show Roger the kitchen? What was he saying to her out there? And why were they both laughing like that? "Cackle, cackle, cackle," muttered Alwynne viciously; "awfully funny, isn't it?" She continued her reflections. Fussing over clearing the supper still! One of Elsbeth's absurd ideas, just because it was the maid's evening out.... Let her do it when she came back! Such a fuss and excitement always! What would Roger think of them? What a long time they were! She might take the opportunity of going to change her frock.... She hesitated. What was that? What was Roger saying? She caught the murmur of his deep voice and her aunt's staccato in answer, but the words were blurred. After all--why should she bother to change? Elsbeth would be sure to make unnecessary remarks.... And Roger wouldn't care--he was too occupied with Elsbeth.... Nobody cared--nobody wanted her.... She would go back to Clare to-morrow.... But if Clare were in to-day's humour still?