“Two miles away—less than that.” And then, a doubt intruding: “I hope that I wasn’t describing your parent?” “It sounds rather like him,” she said without annoyance. “Daddy is a naturalist photographer. He takes moving pictures of birds and things—he is an amateur, of course.” “Of course,” agreed Dick. He brought the buckets back to where he had found them and lingered. Searching for an excuse, he found it in the garden. How far he might have exploited this subject is a matter for conjecture. Interruption came in the shape of a young man who emerged from the front door of the cottage. He was tall and athletic, good-looking. . . . Dick put his age at twenty. “Hello, Ella! Father back?” he began, and then saw the visitor. “This is my brother,” said the girl, and Dick Gordon nodded. He was conscious that this free-and-easy method of getting acquainted was due largely, if not entirely, to his youthful appearance. To be treated as an inconsiderable boy had its advantages. And so it appeared. “I was telling him that boys ought not to be allowed to drive big cars,” she said. “You remember the awful smash there was at the Shoreham cross-roads?” Ray Bennett chuckled. “This is all part of a conspiracy to keep me from getting a motor-bicycle. Father thinks I’ll kill somebody, and Ella thinks I’ll kill myself.” Perhaps there was something in Dick Gordon’s quick smile that warned the girl that she had been premature in her appraisement of his age, for suddenly, almost abruptly, she nodded an emphatic dismissal and turned away. Dick was at the gate when a further respite arrived. It was the man he had passed on the road. Tall, loose-framed, grey and gaunt of face, he regarded the stranger with suspicion in his deep-set eyes. “Good morning,” he said curtly. “Car broken down?” “No, thank you. I ran out of water, and Miss—er——” “Bennett,” said the man. “She gave you the water, eh? Well, good morning.” He stood aside to let Gordon pass, but Dick opened the gate and waited till the owner of Maytree Cottage had entered. “My name is Gordon,” he said. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Ella had turned back and stood with her brother within earshot. “I am greatly obliged to you for your kindness.” The old man, with a nod, went on carrying his heavy burden into the house, and Dick in desperation turned to the girl. “You are wrong when you think this is a difficult car to drive—won’t you experiment? Or perhaps your brother?” The girl hesitated, but not so young Bennett. “I’d like to try,” he said eagerly. “I’ve never handled a big machine.”