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Adeline attended a large girls’ school in the city and an arrangement had been made by which she was taken there each morning and brought back in late afternoon by the Rector’s son, George Fennel, who went by car to his business. As his business was connected with the army he had an extra allowance of gasoline. Pheasant’s two boys also were taken to town by George. In fine weather Adeline walked through the fields to the church road and was there picked up by him. In bad weather or in winter he came to the house for her.

On this morning there was no reason for him to call for her. The weather was perfect. Yet Adeline did not see how she could endure the walk. Fresh and clean in her school tunic and long black stockings, she limped to the stables to find Wright. He was lounging in the open doorway smoking a cigarette. It was a quarter to eight and he had been up and at his work for two hours. He gave her a quizzical grimace, as she advanced toward him.

“Good morning,” he said. “It’s nice to be you—all dressed up and off to a swell school to get yourself made into a lady.”

Adeline looked about her for something she could throw at him. Nothing of the sort was in sight, so she slung the textbooks, which she carried in a strap, against his shins. “Stow that!” she said, using an expression she had picked up from him.

Wright saw that she was not herself.

“What’s up?” he asked.

“I have a sore knee. Will you drive me to meet George’s car?”

“Is that the knee you hurt yesterday?”

“Yes. It’s not very bad. Just stiff. Will you take me to meet George?”

“Sure I will.” He brought out the car. She threw her books into it and climbed stiffly on to the seat.

Wright regarded her with concern. “You don’t look much like riding Jester at the show,” he said.

“Don’t you worry. I’ll ride him.”

“What about your mother?”

“She’ll never know.”

“She’ll know, if you win a prize.”

“I’ll bear the consequences.”

As they sat in the car waiting for George Fennel they made their plans.

The following day Adeline went to school as usual, but after the school lunch she went to the mistress of her form and, pleading that she was not well, asked to be allowed to go home. Indeed the mistress thought the child did not look well. She looked flushed and tired.

But Adeline’s spirits were high as she got into Mr. Crowdy’s car, in which he sat waiting for her outside the school. She gave a little grunt of satisfaction when they left the city streets and sped along a country road.

“How’s the knee?” he asked solicitously.

“Pretty fair,” she answered non-committally. “Might be better and might be worse.”

“When you’re at the show you’ll forget all about it. That’s the way when I’ve anything wrong with me. Now I’ll tell you a little story to cheer you up. There was once a man who hadn’t much money but he had a hunter he loved better than anything on earth. One day he went into the stable and found that the horse had got a terrible bad chill. It was shaking from head to foot. He put its blanket on it but it didn’t stop shivering. Then he went to the house and found his wife in bed with a cold. He went straight to the bed and pulled the blankets off her and carried them out and heaped them on the horse.”

“Good for him!” said Adeline. “Did the horse get better?”

“Sure.”

“And did the wife?”

“Sure. When he went back to the house she was up and laying the supper table.”

As there were no longer any large shows, the small ones drew large crowds. When Adeline and Mr. Crowdy arrived there was already a dense throng about the ring. Wright met them with Adeline’s riding clothes in a suitcase. She changed into them in the clubhouse. There were a number of people about who knew her so she did not lack companionship, but she was not in a sociable mood. To await the events in which she was taking part, in stoical endurance of the throbbing pain in her knee, then to take her part with credit to herself and to her mount, was her one concern. No one would have guessed, to see the gallant little figure taking the jumps, that each jolt of landing caused her acute pain. A small set smile was on her lips and remained there when the judges awarded her a first and a second, and when photographers took her picture, mounted on Jester. In the applause of the crowd she forgot the pain for a space. She had upheld the honour of the Jalna stables. Wright too had done well. He beamed at her as he helped her to alight.

“I guess you’re feeling pretty good now, eh?” he said.

“No, Wright, I’m not,” she answered, in a trembling voice. “I want to go home.” Tears rained down her cheeks.

Back at Jalna, when the horses had been taken out of the van and after he and the farm hand had made them comfortable, Wright turned anxiously to the child. She had been sitting on a low wooden stool watching them.

“Come into the office,” he said, “and let’s see that knee.”

He led her into the little room that Renny used as an office and lifted her to the desk. She sat there relaxed, her legs dangling. “It doesn’t pain quite so badly now,” she said, in a small voice. But she gave a sharp cry when Wright pulled off her boot. When the knee was bared he drew back horrified.

“Cripes!” he exclaimed. “This is an awful leg. Why, miss, you oughtn’t have ridden at that show to-day. You ought to have told me how bad it was.”

“It does look pretty bad, doesn’t it?” she agreed, with a certain pride.

“Bad!” he repeated desperately. “It’s a hell of a knee.”

At that moment he saw Rags passing the window carrying a basket of broccoli. Wright tapped sharply on the pane and beckoned to Rags, who, scenting trouble of some sort, hurried in. When the knee was exhibited to him he scratched his grizzled head and threw Wright an eloquent look.

“Could your wife make some sort of a poultice for it?” asked Wright.

“Nao. The only thing to do for that there knee is to send for the doctor.”

Wright and Adeline looked at each other aghast.

“We can’t,” she declared. “Mummie mustn’t know.”

“Now, look ’ere,” said Rags, “would you rather lose your leg or ’ave your mother knaow?”

Adeline grinned. “Lose my leg,” she said.

Rags said to Wright—“If I was you I’d ’ate to take the responsibility of keeping this from the missus.”

“I guess you’re right.”

“I’ll take the blame,” said Adeline, “if we’ve got to tell. Come on, let’s have it over with.”

Wright gave her a reproachful look. “You shouldn’t have let me in for this, miss,” he said. “If ever you’d showed me that knee! By gum, I’ll catch it for this! Come, get on my back and I’ll carry you to the house.” He bent himself in front of her. She bestrode his back, clasping his neck. So they went to the house, Rags, with a desperate air, carrying her boot.

Alayne was leading Archer upstairs to oversee his preparations for the evening meal. To-morrow she had to take him to the hospital to have his tonsils out. She was filled with shrinking from the operation. As she looked down at the little boy she had a painful yearning to protect him. She was half-way up the stairs when Rags appeared in the hall below. He said, mysteriously:

“Please, madam, would you mind stepping down ’ere? Wright ’as something he feels ’e ought to show you.”

“Whatever is wrong now?” demanded Alayne irritably.

“I think you ought to come down and see, madam. It’s Miss Adeline—she’s ’urt ’erself.”

Alayne flew down the stairs, Archer close behind.

“She’s ’ere at the back of the ’all.” Rags led the way to where Adeline was standing. Wright skulked in a dim corner behind her.

“Adeline!” cried Alayne. “Where are you hurt?”

The child, standing on one leg, held up her knee.

Alayne, bending over it, gave a cry of distress.

“It’s dreadful!” she exclaimed. “It’s not a fresh injury. When did you do it? Was it the other evening when I smelled iodine in your room? Why—you have on your riding things! Adeline, were you riding at the show?”

Adeline hung her head. “Yes, Mummie.”

Alayne now saw Wright. “This is your doing!” she exclaimed, in a voice tense with anger.

“No, Mummie, it isn’t! Truly, it isn’t!”

Wright said—“I never saw the knee till a quarter of an hour ago.”

“That has nothing to do with it. I told you expressly that Miss Adeline was not to ride at any more shows this fall.”

“I thought you’d changed your mind.”

“When I change my mind you can be certain I’ll let you know. Adeline, go to your room and get into bed. I must telephone for the doctor. You will please wait here, Wright.”

“Shall I carry the young lady upstairs, ma’am?” he asked.

“I don’t need any help,” said Adeline. She began to mount the stairs, helping herself up by the banister. Archer followed close behind her.

Alayne, rigid with anger, went into the library and telephoned to the doctor. Rags ostentatiously took the sheep-dog by the scruff and pushed him down into the basement.

Alayne, returning from the telephone, laid her hand on the carved newel post. From there she spoke to Wright.

“I have had quite enough,” she said, “of your interference and your opposition to everything I wish to do. I will not endure it any longer. You can take a month’s notice from to-night.”

The man went white. He had expected a severe reprimand—not this. He knew that it would be easy for him to get another situation, one with higher wages, but he had been at Jalna for more than twenty years, he had reached a time of life when he did not like change. He had trained many horses for Renny Whiteoak. He had ridden at innumerable shows on Renny’s horses, at Renny’s side. He had looked forward to keeping the stables in good order against his return. He had a real sense of loyalty toward Renny’s daughter. He said:

“That’s pretty hard, ma’am, considering the way I’ve worked here. You won’t get another man to do it.”

“I don’t wish to discuss the matter with you,” Alayne said coldly. “You will consider yourself discharged. If my daughter has a serious illness, you will be entirely to blame.” She turned and left him. Her legs felt heavy, her whole body dragged down, as she climbed the stairs.

Wright, seething with anger, descended the stairs into the basement. Rags was mounding a tray with dishes to carry up to the dining-room. His wife, crimson-faced, was drawing a pan of baked fish from the oven. Both turned expectant faces on Wright.

“Well,” he said, “I’m fired.”

“Nao!” exclaimed Rags unbelievingly.

“What’ll she be up to next!” cried Mrs. Wragge.

“Firing us, I’ll bet,” said Rags. “Thinks she can run the ’ole blooming plice alone.”

“She’s got a superiority complex, if ever anyone had,” added his wife. “Now she come down here yesterday and tried to tell me——”

Wright interrupted—“If she thinks she can fire me she’s mistaken. I won’t go.”

“Waon’t gao!” echoed Rags. “ ’Ow can you ’elp yourself?”

“The boss engaged me and he can fire me—if he wants to—when he comes home. She ain’t got the authority.” Colour was returning to his ruddy face. “Why, this here place would be sunk, if I was to leave.”

He remained in the kitchen expatiating on this subject till the ringing of the front-door bell announced the arrival of the doctor.

Stout, white-haired Dr. Drummond took a serious view of Adeline’s knee. If the hospital were not so overcrowded, he said, he would recommend that she should be taken there. Alayne declared herself capable of doing everything necessary. She would telephone Pheasant to come to her aid. Hot compresses were to be applied all night to the knee.

When she and Adeline were alone together the child said ruefully—“Oh, Mummie, it’s a shame that you should have to stay up all the night with me, when you have to take Archer to the hospital to-morrow.”

“Don’t worry about me.” With an effort Alayne kept her voice calm. “But let this be a lesson to you. In future try to remember that sometimes I know what is best for you.”

“I will.” Adeline gave a little moan and turned her face to the wall.

It would have been logical for Alayne to ask Meg to come to her aid but they never had got on well together. She disliked the thought of asking a favour of Meg so she telephoned to Pheasant, who gladly undertook to share the nursing. Adeline became more and more restless. By midnight she was delirious. Alayne again sent for the doctor. The little girl was in acute pain and only a strong sedative relieved her.

It was a haggard Alayne who set off the next morning with Archer, dressed in his Sunday suit, a look of mingled self-importance and apprehension in his eyes. Wright was there with the car to drive them to the hospital. He avoided Alayne’s eyes as he held open the door of the car. It was a wet morning with the first chill of autumn in the air. If only, thought Alayne, Renny were there to take some of the load of responsibility from her shoulders. It was too much for her. She felt weighed down by it.

At the entrance to the hospital Wright asked, half sullenly—“How is the young lady this morning, ma’am?”

“Very ill indeed,” returned Alayne icily. “I had to send for the doctor again, in the night. He is very anxious about her.”

Wright made no reply. “The brute!” thought Alayne. “To think that he had nothing to say. I’m glad I discharged him. I’m glad.”

She had been able to get a private room for Archer. He was pleased by this and stood docile while the nurse prepared him for bed. Alayne could see that the nurse admired him.

“He’s an old-fashioned little boy,” said the nurse.

“He is being very good,” said Alayne.

“I promised I would, didn’t I? I always keep my promises. I’m not like some people.”

“Listen to him!” exclaimed the nurse.

How tiny he looked, standing there in his pyjamas! How helpless when the orderlies came with a cot on wheels and the nurse, with a jolly air, lifted him on to it! Alayne went to the door with him, holding his hand. When he was gone she came back to a chintz-covered chair and flung herself into it, almost too tired to think.

She felt numb. A long while passed. Then she sprang up as the door opened and the sickening smell of the anaesthetic reached her. The cot appeared and Archer was put into the bed. “It is over,” thought Alayne. “Thank God, it is over.”

“Is he all right?” she breathed.

“He’s fine.”

But a miserable time followed when he came out of the anaesthetic and painfully vomited up large gobbets of blood. His first remark was to make sure that the tonsils had been saved for him in a bottle.

Alayne had intended to return to Jalna in the afternoon but Archer so clung to her that it was evening before she could bring herself to leave him. She alighted from the car and went into the house without a glance at Wright.

Finch met her in the hall.

“How is Adeline?” she asked.

“Quieter. I’ve helped Pheasant with her. At this minute they both are asleep. Meg’s been here and wonders why she wasn’t sent for. She’s coming back to spend the night. So you can have a good rest. Rags has coffee waiting for you.” He tucked his arm under hers and led her comfortingly into the hall. All three dogs were there, the sheep-dog’s coat wet, every disreputable hair of him beaded with mud. At sight of Alayne he rose and descended majestically into the basement.