"Yes, yes, Aunt Anne. I always do." "Now, mind you don't make eyes at Mr. Wilson, who is Joan's friend. That is what horrid little cats of girls do, not what I expect of _you_. Chickens draw people together in a way, ahem! you don't understand, but--you will later on." "Like poetry does?" Dulcie hazarded. "Just like poetry. And one thing more. Don't speak to Mr. Vavasour unless he speaks to you." "No, no, Aunt Anne. I never do." Once again I must compress. As the summer advanced, Gertrude, nose down in full cry on the track, unfolded to me a project which only needed my co-operation. I reminded her that I never co-operated, but she paid no attention, and said she wished to send the children with Joan and Dulcie to the seaside for a month, while she watched over Jimmy during his annual visit to Harrogate. The children required a change. I agreed. She had thought of Lee on the Solent. (You will remember, reader, that Mr. Vavasour's place was near Lee.) "Why Lee?" I said, pretending surprise. "Expensive and only ten miles away. No real change of climate. Send them to Felixstowe or Scarborough." But Gertrude's mind was made up. She poured forth batches of adequate reasons. It must be Lee. Would I accompany the party as their guest? Joan and Dulcie were rather too young to go into lodgings alone. I saw at once that, under the circumstances, Lee was no place for me. I might get into hot water. I, so free now, might become entangled in the affairs of others, and might be blamed later on. I might find myself acting with duplicity or, to be more exact, I might be found out to be doing so. I declined with regretful gratitude. If it had been Felixstowe or Scarborough I would have taken charge with pleasure, but I always had rheumatism at Lee. Rheumatism was a very capricious ailment. "It is, indeed," said Gertrude coldly. "Send your old governess," I suggested, "the ancient Miss Jones who lives at Banff. You have her here every summer for a month. Kill two birds with one stone. Let her have her annual outing at Lee instead of here." Gertrude was undeniably struck by my suggestion, though she found fault with it. As she began to come round to it I then raised objections to it. I reminded her that Miss Jones was as blind as a bat: that when she accompanied them to Scotland the year before she had mistaken the footman bathing for a salmon leaping. But Gertrude was of the opinion that Miss Jones's shortsightedness was no real drawback. The expedition started, and I actually produced five pounds for Dulcie to spend on seaside attire. I considered it a good investment. Before Gertrude departed with Jimmy for Harrogate she volunteered with a meaning smile that she understood Mr. Wilson bicycled over frequently to Lee. "Ten miles is nothing," I said, "to a high principled poultry fancier."