"I'll drive over and bring you back next morning. We might use our bicycles, but the violin case would be rather a nuisance, and I suppose you'll need a bag of some description. I'll be here at eleven, and then we shall get home to lunch. Edna is in a great state of excitement at the thought of seeing you." Norah pulled a funny little face of embarrassment. "I'm rather shy, you know," she said, laughing. "I've only seen your mother once, and the other two are absolute strangers; it seems funny to be coming over to stay. Is your father a formidable sort of old gentleman?" "Humph--well--I think he is rather! He is awfully fond of getting his own way," said Rex, in a tone which implied that he failed to understand how anyone could be guilty of such a weakness. "But he is an awfully decent sort if you take him the right way; and poor little Edna would not frighten a mouse. You will feel at home with her in five minutes. I only wish she knew Lettice. We must arrange for her to come over some time." Norah looked at him with a feeling of curiosity which was not altogether agreeable. "Why do you wish that she knew Lettice! Do you think she would like her better than me?" "Oh, yes," said Rex easily. (He was just like other boys, Norah told herself, and had not the slightest regard for a poor girl's feelings!) "She is such a jolly, affectionate little thing, you know, that Edna would take to her at once. And she has heard so much of `Lovely Lettice'! I say, _isn't_ she pretty?" "Yes, she is--lovely! It's a very good name for her." Norah spoke with all the greater emphasis because, for the moment, she had been guilty of an actual pang of envy of her beloved Lettice, for she regarded the "strange boy" as her special friend, by virtue of having been the first to make his acquaintance, and it was not agreeable to find her own claims to popularity brushed aside in this unceremonious fashion. "Lettice is a darling, and everyone likes her, because she is sweet- tempered, and never says unkind things to make other people miserable," she added, not without the hope that Mr Rex would take the hint to himself. He did nothing of the sort, however, but only yawned, thought he must be going, and marched away with stoical unconsciousness of the aching little heart which he had left behind. On Thursday morning Rex duly drove up to the door in his father's dog- cart. He was a little before his time, but Norah was waiting for him, wrapped up in her warm scarlet coat; her violin case and bag ready on the hall table. Before he came she had been lamenting loudly, because she felt a conviction that something would happen to prevent his arrival; but when it came to setting off, she was seized with an attack of shyness, and hung back in hesitating fashion. "Oh, oh! I don't like it a bit. I feel horrid. Don't you think father would drive over, and bring me home to-night?"