They played up for Jean at this juncture as though she were going away for ever. One would have thought there was nothing to be had in London from the manner in which they provided for her. Even Lance appeared with a kettle and spirit lamp for making tea. "You meet in each other’s rooms and talk politics and mend your stockings," said he, "and you take turns to make tea. I know all about it." Maud Hartley gave her a traveller’s pincushion, and May Turberville a neat hold-all for jewellery. Jean stuck in her two brooches, one bangle, a pendant and a finger ring. Then she sighed in a longing manner. "If I use your case, I shall have no jewellery to wear," she said to May. At that moment a package was handed to her. It was small, and of the exciting nature of the package that is first sealed, and then discloses a white box with a rubber strap round it. "Oh, and it’s from Bulstrode’s," cried Jean in great excitement. "The loveliest place in town," she explained to Isobel. "What can it be?" It was a charming little watch on a brooch clasp, and it was accompanied by a card, "With love to dear Jean, to keep time for her when she is far away. From Miss Annie and Miss Grace." "Well," said Jean, with her eyes filling, "aren’t they ducks! And I’ve so often laughed at Miss Grace." "They are just like fairy godmothers," said Elma. "Jean! It’s lovely." She turned and turned the "little love" in her hand. Where so many were being kind to Jean, it appeared necessary to Aunt Katharine that she also must make her little gift. She gave Jean a linen bag for her boots, with "My boots and shoes" sewn in red across it. "I don’t approve of your trip at all," she said to Jean, "but then I never do approve of what your mother lets you do. In my young days we were making jam at your age, and learning how to cure hams. The stores are upsetting everything." "I want to sing," said Jean, "and your bag is lovely, Aunt Kathie. Didn’t you want very badly to learn the right way to sing when you were my age?" Aunt Katharine sang one Scotch song about Prince Charlie, and it was worth hearing for the accompaniment alone, if not for the wonderful energy with which Aunt Katharine declaimed the words. Dr. Merryweather, in an abstracted moment, once thanked her for her recitation, and this had had the unfortunate result of preventing her from performing so often as she used to. "No, my dear," she said in answer to Jean’s remark, "I had no desire to find out how they sang at one end of the country, when my friends considered that I performed so well at the other end. The best masters of singing are not all removed from one’s home. Nature and talent may do wonders." Then she sighed heavily. "The claims of home ought to come first in any case. Your mother and father have given you a comfortable one. It is your duty to stay in it."