“And corsets, and the next pleasure, and kindly walk this way. It might be rather delightful really. I should try to get him to, Eddy.” “I think I will. We rather want the shopman’s point of view, and it’s not easy to get.” They were passing Chiswick Mall. Molly saw there the house she preferred. “Look, Eddy. That one with wistaria over it, and the balcony. What’s it called? The Osiers. What a nice name. Do let’s stop and find out if we can have it.” “Well, someone obviously lives there; in fact, I see someone on the balcony. He might think it odd of us, do you think?” “But perhaps he’s leaving. Or perhaps he’d as soon live somewhere else, if we found a nice place for him. I wonder who it is?” “I don’t know. We might find out who his doctor is, and get him to tell him it’s damp and unhealthy. It looks fairly old.” “And they say those osier beds are most unwholesome,” Bridget added. “It’s heavenly. And look, there’s a heron.... Can’t we land on the island?” “No. Bridget says it’s unwholesome.” So they didn’t, but went on to Kew. There they landed and went to look for the badger in the gardens. They did not find him. One never does. But they had tea. Then they rowed down again to Crabtree Lane, and their ways diverged. Eddy went home with Molly. She said, “It’s been lovely, Eddy,” and he said “Hasn’t it.” He was pleased, because Molly and the others had got on so well and made such a happy party. He said, “When we’re at the Osiers we’ll often do that.” She said “Yes,” thoughtfully, and he saw that something was on her mind. “And when Daffy and Nevill have stopped quarrelling,” added Eddy, “we’ll have them established somewhere near by, and they shall come on the river too. We must fix that up somehow.” Molly said “Yes,” again, and he asked, “And what’s the matter now?” and touched a little pucker on her forehead with his finger. She smiled. “I was only thinking, Eddy.... It was something Miss Hogan said, about spending Good Friday on the river. Do you think they really did?” He laughed a little at her wide, questioning eyes and serious face. “I suppose so. But Bridget said ‘Never again’--didn’t you hear?” “Oh yes. But that was only because of the crowd.... Of course it may be all right--but I just wished she hadn’t said it, rather. It sounded as if they didn’t care much, somehow. I’m sure they do, but....” “I’m sure they don’t,” Eddy said. “Bridget isn’t what you would call a Churchwoman, you see. Nor are Jane, or Arnold, or Billy. They see things differently, that’s all.” “But--they’re not dissenters, are they?” Eddy laughed. “No. That’s the last thing any of them are.” Molly’s wide gaze became startled. “Do you mean--they’re heathens? Oh, how dreadfully sad, Eddy. Can’t you ... can’t you help them somehow? Couldn’t you ask some clergyman you know to meet them?” Eddy chuckled again. “I’m glad I’m engaged to you, Molly. You please me. But I’m afraid the clergyman would be no more likely to convert them than they him.”