"Why not make it a general holiday? Lend me the little girls, farm out the babies to relations, throw off responsibilities, and have a real laze yourself. You know you would love it!" I said. "Haven't you a man friend who would take you away?" "Oh, rather. The best of fellows. We were boys together. He's had a stiff time, too, so he understands. Miss Harding, what a brick you are! Will you really take the girls? I say"--his face lit up with the boyish smile--"it would be a chance to buy them some clothes. Would you do it? Miss Brown has no taste. It's been one of my trials. My girl was so dainty. A pretty hat apiece, and a frock, and stockings to match--that wouldn't break the bank, would it? Do you think five pounds--" I waved a protesting hand. "Heaps! Heaps! Leave it to me. I'll make them as pretty as pictures. When--er--when I was young, I was fond of dress. I was considered to have good taste." He smiled at me in the kind, forbearing manner in which people do smile at elderly women who exploit their own youth, and said vaguely:-- "Yes, I am sure--I am quite sure. Well, I must be off. Thank you for all your kindness." He departed, but the very next night the maid brought a message to ask if Miss Harding had a thermometer. If so, would she be so very kind as to take Billie's temperature, as he seemed restless and feverish? I draped myself in the Paisley shawl in which I flatter myself I look my plainest and most ancient, ran upstairs, and was shown into Billie's bedroom. He was sitting up in his cot, looking so pretty with his dishevelled golden curls, his big bright eyes, and the fever flush on his cheeks. I guessed 102 at sight; but it was worse than that--close on 103. I gave the thermometer the professional shake, looking, as I felt, pretty serious and troubled, whereupon Miss Brown took alarm at once, being evidently the useful kind of woman who loses her head in illness. "Is he going to be ill? I don't understand poultices and fomentations; couldn't take the responsibility! As things are, there is more work than I can get through. I hope you will tell Mr Thorold that if Billie is going to be ill, it is absolutely necessary to have help." I calmed her, and went into the dining-room to report. The air was full of smoke, and Mr Thorold was sitting at one side of the fireplace, talking to another man who was facing him from another big leather chair. They both sprang up at my entrance, and Mr Thorold said:-- "This is my friend, Mr Hallett, of whom I spoke to you lately. We are discussing the possibility of a short trip. Edgar, this is Miss Harding, a very kind neighbour. She has come up on an errand of mercy to see one of the babies, who is a bit off colour. How do you find the small man, Miss Harding?" He was not a bit anxious. In the interest of the talk with an old friend, the baby ailment had faded from his mind. I hated to bring the shadow to his face, but it had to be done.