'I must begin by telling you that Mrs. Winfrith, David's mother, was much younger than her husband, and in every way utterly unlike him. Before her marriage she had been something of a beauty, a spoilt, headstrong girl, engaged to some man of whom her people had not approved, and who finally jilted her. She came down here on a visit, met Mr. Winfrith, flirted with him, and finally married him. For a time all seemed to go very well: they had no children, and as he was very indulgent she often went away and stayed with her own people, who were rich and of the world worldly. It was from one of them, by the way--from a brother of hers, a diplomatist--that David got his nice little fortune. But at the time I am telling you of there was no thought of David. Not long after Mr. and Mrs. Winfrith's marriage, another couple came to Shagisham, and took Shagisham House, the place we have just passed. Their name was Mason, and they were very well off. But soon it became known that the wife was practically insane--in fact, that she had to have nurses and keepers. One of her crazes was that of having everything about her red; the furniture was all upholstered in bright-red silk, the woodwork was all painted red, and people even said she slept in red linen sheets! Mrs. Winfrith became quite intimate with these people. She was there constantly, and she was supposed to have a soothing effect on Mrs. Mason. In time--in fact, in a very short time--she showed her sympathy with the husband in the most practical manner, for one day they both disappeared from Shagisham together.' 'Together?' repeated Cecily, bewildered. 'How do you mean?' 'I mean'--Penelope was looking straight before her, urging the pony to go yet faster, although they were beginning to mount the interminable hill leading to Kingpole Farm--'I mean that Mrs. Winfrith ran away from her husband, and that Mr. Mason left his mad wife to take care of herself. Of course, as an actual fact, there were plenty of people to look after her, and I don't suppose she ever understood what had taken place. But you can imagine how the affair affected the neighbourhood, and the kind of insulting pity which was lavished on Mr. Winfrith. My father, who at that time only knew him slightly, tried to induce him to leave Shagisham, and even offered to get him another living. But he refused to stir, and so he and Mrs. Mason both stayed on here, while Mrs. Winfrith and Mr. Mason were heard of at intervals as being in Italy, apparently quite happy in each other's society, and quite unrepentant.' 'Poor Mr. Winfrith!' said Cecily slowly. But she was thinking of David, not of the placid old man who seemed so proud of his flowers and of his garden.