All this had happened before Mr. Townsend and Murray came home. Mrs. Townsend’s breakdowns after fatigue in fulfilling her engagements, and the summoning of the doctor, had become too frequent occurrences to imply the sending for her husband. The orders away, for rest and recuperation, were also, within the last few years, of semi-annual recurrence. "It simply means," said Murray, pacing with Jane up and down the long flower-bordered walk between the house and the tennis-court, "it simply means six weeks or two months for you to try your hand at being mistress of the establishment. And judging by what I saw that hand do to-day----" Jane looked quickly up at him. "I should say that it was competent to run anything. That salad was a--what do women say?--a symphony--a star. Not that I care much for salads myself, but to see you putting it together----" "Murray--you didn ’t!" "Didn’t I? You had on a pink-and-white checked apron that came up over your shoulders. Your sleeves were short, and your hair curled round your ears, the way it does on damp days. You----" "Where were you? How did you know! Who----" "I was on the other side of the door, which you forgot to lock. Never in my life was I so bowled over by the sight of a girl in a kitchen." "If I had known you were looking----" "Precisely. That was why Shirley wouldn’t let me call you out. Of course I should have kissed you--I never felt more like it--and that might have endangered the composition of the salad." "I ’m afraid it would," laughed Jane. "As it was, I made the one real mistake of the luncheon--I sent that salad in on the game plates! The girls were in such a flurry they did n’t notice till the plates began to come out again. I hope mother did n’t mind very much." "I ’ll warrant nobody else did. Mrs. Arlo Stevenson is as short-sighted as an owl in the day-time, and as I understand it, Mrs. Stevenson was the guest who counted--goodness knows why! I think she’s insufferable. I ’m glad mother ’s got her off her mind, for the time being. It will give her a chance to recuperate. Poor mother! She misses a lot of fun, does n’t she?" "She thinks it’s we who miss it." "Perhaps we can show her better some day--when we ’ve been very good and earned that house by ourselves. Hi! What?" exclaimed Murray. "How you jumped! Did you think that house by ourselves was n’t really to materialise some day?" "I--wasn’t sure." Jane’s voice was low. She did not mean to show how much she cared, or how she longed to believe definitely in a prospect which, as yet, had not been in so many words held out to her. "Why, it’s a certainty! Have n’t I made that clear, little girl? You know, when I told you how anxious father was to have us live with them, I said it would n’t be for all time. Don’t you remember that?" "I know. But I thought----"