He followed her across the lawn to the tea table which stood in the shade of a fine tree. For there are trees in this favoured spot as well as flowers. “Tea, Willoughby?” said Kay, sinking gratefully into a deck chair. “Or have you had yours?” “Yes, I had some.... I think----” Mr. Braddock weighed the question thoughtfully. “Yes.... Yes, I’ve had some.” Kay filled her cup and sipped luxuriously. “Golly, I’m tired!” she said. “Had a bad day?” “Much the same as usual.” “Mrs. B. not too cordial?” “Not very. And, unfortunately, the son and heir was cordiality itself.” Mr. Braddock nodded. “A bit of a trial, that lad.” “A bit.” “Wants kicking.” “Very badly.” Kay gave a little wriggle of distaste. Technically, her duties at Thurloe Square consisted of reading and writing Mrs. Winnington-Bates’ letters; but what she was engaged for principally, she sometimes thought, was to act as a sort of spiritual punching bag for her employer. To-day that lady had been exceptionally trying. Her son, on the other hand, who had recently returned to his home after an unsuccessful attempt to learn poultry farming in Sussex and was lounging about it, with little to occupy him, had shown himself, in his few moments of opportunity, more than usually gallant. What life needed to make it a trifle easier, Kay felt, was for Mrs. Bates to admire her a little more and for Claude Bates to admire her a little less. “I remember him at school,” said Mr. Braddock. “A worm.” “Was he at school with you?” “Yes. Younger than me. A beastly little kid who stuffed himself with food and frousted over fires and shirked games. I remember Sam Shotter licking him once for stealing jam sandwiches at the school shop. By the way, Sam’s coming over here. I had a letter from him.” “Is he? And who is he? You’ve never mentioned his name before.” “Haven’t I told you about old Sam Shotter?” asked Mr. Braddock, surprised. “Never. But he sounds wonderfully attractive. Anyone who licked Claude Bates must have a lot of good in him.” “He was at school with me.” “What a lot of people seem to have been at school with you!” “Well, there were about six hundred fellows at Wrykyn, you know. Sam and I shared a study. Now there is a chap I envy. He’s knocked about all over the world, having all sorts of fun. America one day, Australia the next, Africa the day after.” “Quick mover,” said Kay. “The last I heard from him he was in his uncle’s office in New York, but in this letter he says he’s coming over to work at Tilbury House.” “Tilbury House? Really? I wonder if uncle will meet him.” “Don’t you think it would be a sound move if I gave him a dinner or something where he could meet a few of the lads? You and your uncle, of course--and if I could get hold of old Tilbury.” “Do you know Lord Tilbury?” “Oh, yes; I play bridge with him sometimes at the club. And he took my shooting last year.” “When does Mr. Shotter arrive?”