“It didn’t matter, dear, in the slightest ... dear me, no. We went, Millie and I, and got the hot-water bottles, very good and strong ones, I think, although they said they couldn’t positively guarantee them. You never can tell, apparently, with a hot-water bottle.” Katherine’s eyes, now, were wide and staring with distress. “How _could_ I possibly have forgotten? It was talking about it at breakfast when Aunt Aggie too was talking about something, and I got confused, I suppose. No, I haven’t any excuse at all. It was seeing Philip unexpectedly....” She stopped abruptly, realising that she had said the worst thing possible. “You mustn’t let Philip, dear, drive everything out of your head,” Mrs. Trenchard said, laughing. “We have some claim on you until you are married—then, of course....” The colour mounted again into Katherine’s face. “No, mother, you mustn’t say that,” she answered in a low voice, as though she was talking to herself. “Philip makes _no_ difference—none at all. I’d have forgotten in any case, I’m afraid, because we talked about it at breakfast when I was thinking about Aunt Aggie. It was nothing to do with Philip—it was my fault absolutely. I’ll never forgive myself.” All the joy had left her eyes. She was very grave: she knew that, slight as the whole incident was, it marked a real crisis in her relations, not only with her mother, but with the whole house. Perhaps during all these weeks, she had forgotten them all, and they had noticed it and been hurt by it. She accused herself so bitterly that it seemed that nothing could be bad enough for her. She felt that, in the future, she could not show her mother enough attention and affection. But now, at this moment, there was nothing to be done. Millie would have laughed, hugged her mother and forgotten in five minutes that there had been any crime. But, in this, Katherine’s character resembled, exactly, her mother’s. “Really, Katie, it didn’t matter. I’m glad you liked the walk. And now it’s tea-time. It always seems to be tea-time. There’s so much to do.” They were then, both of them, conscious that Aunt Aggie had come in and was smiling at them. They wished intensely to fling into the pause some conversation that would be trivial and unimportant. They could think of nothing to say.... “Why, Katherine,” said Aunt Aggie, “where _have_ you been? Millie says she’s been to the Stores.... You said at breakfast ...” “I was kept ...” said Katherine sharply, and left the room. “I’ll be down in five minutes, Aggie,” said Mrs. Trenchard. “Tea-time—” Her sister watched her as she went out, carrying her hat in her hand. Half-way upstairs she saw Henry, who was half-tumbling, half-sliding from step to step: he was evidently hurrying, in his confused way, to do something that he had forgotten to do or to finish some task that he should long ago have completed. “Henry,” she said, “I wonder whether—”