But now he was out of the water Jonathan turned blue with cold. He ached all over; it was as though some one was wringing the blood out of him. And stalking up the beach, shivering, all his muscles tight, he too felt his bathe was spoilt. He’d stayed in too long. III Beryl was alone in the living-room when Stanley appeared, wearing a blue serge suit, a stiff collar and a spotted tie. He looked almost uncannily clean and brushed; he was going to town for the day. Dropping into his chair, he pulled out his watch and put it beside his plate. “I’ve just got twenty-five minutes,” he said. “You might go and see if the porridge is ready, Beryl?” “Mother’s just gone for it,” said Beryl. She sat down at the table and poured out his tea. “Thanks!” Stanley took a sip. “Hallo!” he said in an astonished voice, “you’ve forgotten the sugar.” “Oh, sorry!” But even then Beryl didn’t help him; she pushed the basin across. What did this mean? As Stanley helped himself his blue eyes widened; they seemed to quiver. He shot a quick glance at his sister-in-law and leaned back. “Nothing wrong, is there?” he asked carelessly, fingering his collar. Beryl’s head was bent; she turned her plate in her fingers. “Nothing,” said her light voice. Then she too looked up, and smiled at Stanley. “Why should there be?” “O-oh! No reason at all as far as I know. I thought you seemed rather—” At that moment the door opened and the three little girls appeared, each carrying a porridge plate. They were dressed alike in blue jerseys and knickers; their brown legs were bare, and each had her hair plaited and pinned up in what was called a horse’s tail. Behind them came Mrs. Fairfield with the tray. “Carefully, children,” she warned. But they were taking the very greatest care. They loved being allowed to carry things. “Have you said good morning to your father?” “Yes, grandma.” They settled themselves on the bench opposite Stanley and Beryl. “Good morning, Stanley!” Old Mrs. Fairfield gave him his plate. “Morning, mother! How’s the boy?” “Splendid! He only woke up once last night. What a perfect morning!” The old woman paused, her hand on the loaf of bread, to gaze out of the open door into the garden. The sea sounded. Through the wide-open window streamed the sun on to the yellow varnished walls and bare floor. Everything on the table flashed and glittered. In the middle there was an old salad bowl filled with yellow and red nasturtiums. She smiled, and a look of deep content shone in her eyes. “You might _cut_ me a slice of that bread, mother,” said Stanley. “I’ve only twelve and a half minutes before the coach passes. Has anyone given my shoes to the servant girl?” “Yes, they’re ready for you.” Mrs. Fairfield was quite unruffled. “Oh, Kezia! Why are you such a messy child!” cried Beryl despairingly.