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turned to Owen, a silent listener to the conversation.
    “Owen dear, will you take Miss Darvill indoors and ask Bertha to take her to her room? I am sure she would like a wash after what must have been a hot and tiring journey. Bertha is our guardian angel,” she went on lightly to Lucy. “She looks after both of us— and sometimes she bullies us. That, of course, is natural where Owen is concerned—” she flashed him a mischievous look, “because she was once his nanny, and to a nanny, her charges never grow up.”
    “It still astounds me that she’s ever given up asking it I’ve washed behind my ears and cleaned my nails,” Owen put in with a gaiety which surprised Lucy. Evidently there was another side to his nature than the surly one she had so far encountered!
    The house was cool and shady after the bright sunshine, and, in fact, Lucy stumbled because her eyes had not become adjusted to the difference in light. Instantly a strong hand shot out and steadied her.
    “Careful!” Owen said warningly. “No need to hurry.”
    Quickly Lucy released herself, murmuring a word of apology, and then, to her relief, a woman in a severely plain blue dress, so obviously a one-time nanny that she must be Bertha, came into the hall from the back of the house.
    “This is Miss Darvill, Bertha,” Owen explained. Bertha inclined her head graciously.
    “I'm very glad to see you, miss,” she announced. “Madam has been needing a young lady to help her, it has really worried her, not being able to get on with her work. This way, please, miss. Is that all your luggage? If you’ll put it down, Mr. Owen, I’ll get John to take it up.”
    “I’ll tell him,” Owen offered, and with a slight pursing of her lips, Bertha agreed to this.
    Feeling that she was suddenly a child again, and that in some way it was her fault that she had not come here sooner, Lucy followed the sturdy figure up the thickly carpeted stairs and along a corridor.
    “Here we are,” Bertha announced, throwing open a door and standing back for Lucy to pass her.
    It was a beautiful room, although Lucy was not in a frame of mind to appreciate it in detail. What she did realise was that, short though the notice had been, every care had been taken to give those personal touches that mean so much. The windows were wide open so that the room was pleasantly fresh, there were flowers on the mantelpiece and dressing table, and a selection of books and magazines lay on the bedside table. Realising that Bertha was waiting expectantly, Lucy turned to her with a smile.
    “How very nice you’ve had it made for me.” Bertha looked gratified, not only because this young lady evidently knew the proper way things ought to be done, but also because she realised that Bertha herself, though responsible, had actually given orders for the room to be prepared.
    “And this is your bathroom, miss,” she explained, opening another door. “I think that’s all, but if there’s anything you want, ring the bell and one of the maids will come. Ah, here’s John with your case. Would you like to have it unpacked for you?”
    “Thank you, I can see to that,” Lucy told her, but Bertha still lingered.
    “Dinner is at half past seven, miss,” she announced. “And if you don’t mind me telling you, dress isn’t in the least formal when the family is alone. Just an ordinary summer dress would do nicely.”
    “I see.” Lucy began to wish she would go, but she had realised by now that Bertha was a law unto herself. She came and went as she saw fit. “Thank you, Bertha.”
    And then, with a final comprehensive look round the room, Bertha did at last leave her.
    It did not take Lucy very long to unpack, tidy herself and change. Then she was left wondering what she should do. There was still nearly an hour before dinner. Ought she to stay in her room until nearer the time for it, or should she go downstairs? A glance from her window which overlooked the terrace showed that there was