The day promised badly from the beginning. During breakfast a slight drizzle began to fall, and it was decided that the croquet tournament, which was now nearing its finish, had better be postponed. Then came the unfortunate affair of Palmer and Miss Johnson. For towards midday, seeing that the rain had cleared off, and that even a flicker of wan sunshine was trying to pierce through the heavy atmosphere, Miss Johnson, having put on a waterproof and a pair of thick boots, boldly set out to take a walk. She had looked for a companion, but the girls, under Hannah’s supervision, were in the kitchen baking, while Jim had disappeared, no one knew whither. Miss Johnson set out alone. Resolved on fresh woods, and pastures new, she bent her steps in the direction of the river. She walked by dripping trees and drenched hedges, upon which a grey mist hung in silken webs; she passed the churchyard wall; and finally, her path unexpectedly coming to an end, picked her way carefully across a ploughed field. It was at this point that, pushing through a broken fence and finding herself at last upon the river bank, an appalling sight met her eyes. It held her transfixed, but only for a moment――a moment of frozen horror: then a stifled scream came from her parted lips and she withdrew. For what Miss Johnson had seen was a naked man. To be sure, this particular man was not very old――sixteen years or thereabouts――but to the governess’s startled vision he might have been Adam. In a few seconds she was back in the ploughed field, plunging ankle-deep in mud. Miss Johnson was seriously angry; her morning, she decided, was spoiled; and on her return to the house she dwelt long and bitterly on the disgraceful state of things which made it impossible for her to go out for a walk without the risk of coming on such scenes. She didn’t know what the boys were thinking of――particularly Palmer――the others had at any rate been _in_ the river. They oughtn’t to be allowed to bathe except at stated times, and certainly at _no_ time without bathing things. _Any_one might be passing at such an hour――the very middle of the day. It was in vain that Aunt Caroline assured her that nobody ever _did_ pass, except an occasional bargee and his family; Miss Johnson was not to be pacified; and at lunch the whole matter was revived when Jim, on Palmer’s entrance, threw up his hands with a scream of dismay. Jim was sent from the table in disgrace, but this, as the governess knew, simply meant that he finished his dinner with Bridget and Hannah, by no means a great hardship, judging by the radiant face with which he returned. Jim was being spoiled; his manners had already deteriorated; and Miss Johnson resolved without further delay to send a letter to his mother.