"And here are your other big girls. Dear me!" said Miss Carr, bestowing a hasty glance at Norah, and staring hard at Lettice over the edge of her cup. "I remember them all in long clothes, but I shall make a point of forgetting them soon if they go on growing up like this. There is a limit to everything--even to the memory of an old woman like myself. The boys are at school, I suppose? But the little one--my baby-- Geraldine?" "Quite well, sank you--how are you?" said the Mouse, coming forward from her hiding-place, and holding out her tiny hand, with a sweet-faced gravity which was too much for the good lady's composure. Down went the teacup on the table, and Geraldine was folded in a hearty embrace. "Bless your innocent face! I'm well, my darling--a great deal better for seeing you. You don't remember me, do you?" The Mouse put her head on one side as if considering how to answer truthfully, without hurting the visitor's feelings. "I _sink_ I don't," she said slowly, "only p'raps I shall by-and-by. I'm very pleased to see you." "There now! What do you think of that? She couldn't possibly belong to anyone in the world but you, Austin," cried Miss Carr in triumph; and Mr Rayner held out his hand to the child with a smile that showed that the Mouse had added yet another to the long list of her adorers. It was not until dinner was over and the whole party had strolled into the garden, that Hilary had a chance of a quiet talk with Mr Rayner; but when her father and Miss Carr began to pace up and down the lawn, he came up to her with a gesture of invitation. "Won't you sit down for a few minutes on this seat?" Then, with a smile of friendly interest, "Well--how goes it?--How goes it?" Hilary drew in her breath with a gasp of pleasure. She had not realised when in London how greatly she had been touched and impressed by her meetings with the crippled author; it was only after she had returned to the quiet of the country home that she had found her thoughts returning to him again and again, with a longing to confide her troubles in his ear; to ask his advice, and to see the kindly sympathy on his face. The deep, rich tone of his voice as he said that "How goes it?" filled her with delighted realisation that the long-looked-for time had arrived. "Oh, pretty well--better and worse! I have been making discoveries." "About--?" "Myself, I think!" And Hilary stretched out her hands with a little gesture of distaste, which was both graceful and natural. Mr Rayner looked at her fixedly beneath bent brows. "Poor little Two Shoes!" he said gravely. "So soon! It hurts, Two Shoes, but it's good in the end. Growing pains, you know!" "Yes!" said Hilary softly. It was good to find someone who understood without asking questions or forcing confidence. "And you?" she asked presently, raising her eyes to his with a smile of inquiry--"what have you been doing?"