“_Need_ we have him to dinner again to-night?” Dandy sighed. “(No. The V.A.D. was yesterday, and the S.P. something-or-other’s to-morrow.) I’m sure I know every hair on that wretched Lapwing, by now! And two of the maids have threatened to give notice if he goes on calling them ‘Skirts.’ Harriet says it’s his generic term for all women-servants, just as he calls all the men ‘Whiskers,’ but it isn’t very polite. I wish you’d give him a hint, Daddy dear.” Hamer looked troubled. “Of course I don’t want to pester you with him, little girl, but I can’t help worrying and wanting to lever him out of his rut. A man with my luck ought to be handing it round if he can. Knewstubb isn’t bad all through. He’s only--careless. He’s begun to take an interest in one or two things going, lately. And, anyway, my whisky’s better than the ‘White Lion’s.’” “How you are scooping in the shekels up aloft, Daddy dear! If you’re not careful, you’ll break the bank. Why, yes, Stubbs is quite a different creature already, and you’ve started others stretching a hand to him, too. They made him a platform ornament at the last Conservative meeting, and several good souls are trying to push him into positions of trust. It won’t be your fault if you don’t waft him into Heaven among you!” Hamer looked more troubled than ever. “You’re not sneering at me, are you, Dandy Anne?” “Oh, DARLING!” Dandy took the fat books from him, and put herself in their place. “Now may the Bald-Head Bears come out of Crag Yeat Wood and gobble me up! As if I didn’t just worship you and your trams, and mean to ride into glory at the tail of one of them! Ask the Stubbs, by all means, and I will get him to teach me the Farmers’ Shuffle for the fifteenth time, while you have your after-dinner nap. And you might ask the Forgotten Parson and the Lonely Lady with the Policeman’s Rattle. Let’s have a real Tram-Party while we’re about it. There’s the Grammar-School-Master, too, who blew himself up, last week. I met him this morning, wandering about in bandages and a splint. He hasn’t a spare hand, so you’ll have to feed him. Shall I tell mother dinner for seven? And then let me walk over to Wild Duck with you, and help to carry the books. I want to see Harriet about ‘Elijah.’” They found the lady-farmer round by the shippons, on the point of climbing into the float between the shining milkcans. It was growing dusk as they went up the gravelled path, and already a light showed in the pretty farm-house. Snowdrops were thick in the garden, and a band of yellow crocus edged the foot of the whitewashed porch. Over the dividing wall they could hear Harriet directing the lighting of the sparkling lamps.