“Did Mr. Sheldon know she was missing things?”

Barbara stood still, then turned impulsively.

“I’ll tell you something I’ve not talked about to anybody, not even to Dick, that’s Donald’s half-brother. I think he did. I think he knew that even if she hadn’t died she wasn’t going to be happy. Of course Iris was an interest, but . . .” Her voice trailed away, then she added vigorously: “That’s where Gladys came in. She came when Anna was ill, and she did everything for her and was supposed to be marvellous to her and all that, but I don’t believe she was more marvellous than anybody else would have been, anyway not so marvellous that Donald need feel he’s got to marry her.”

“She’s in love with him.”

“I suppose she is, but as I told you in the train, I don’t like her, and I’m mean about her.” Shrill, excited barks came from the end of the garden. “There’s Hoover, come on.”

Hoover was a dachshund, orange brown, thin and long as a walking-stick, and shiny as a seal. He had decided that something that would be better dead had taken refuge under a marrow bed, and he had set out on an excavation scheme on a vast scale. Only the back half of him was visible. Barbara clutched at it, and brought out the earthy, wriggling, barking front end. She held the dog in her arms and introduced him to Janet.

“Hoover, Janet. Janet, Hoover.” Hoover licked her face. “You dirty boy, look at the earth on your nose. Let Mother brush you!”

“Isn’t he heavenly!”

“You ought to talk about him to Donald. He doesn’t think a dog’s a dog at all unless it’s useful, looking after sheep, or for shooting or something. You are the most exquisite beast, aren’t you, my sweet, but I couldn’t pretend you are useful. Come on!” She put Hoover down. “Walk quietly back to the house and try and pretend you’ve been good.”

They had tea on the lawn. It was served by an elderly, old-fashioned-looking parlour-maid. She put a silver tray, with a silver tea-pot, kettle and jugs, and frail, lovely china, in front of Barbara. To Janet both the parlour-maid and the tea-service showed a new world. The colonel saw from her face that something had pleased her.

“Wonderin’ at our luck, my dear? They tell me servants are gettin’ scarce these days, but old Miller has been with me nearly thirty years, so’s the cook, and they were no chickens when they came.”

Barbara handed Janet a cup of tea.

“Miller and the cook came when Daddy was married, but Jennings, the housemaid, only came when I was little, that’s about eighteen years ago, but she’s still spoken of as ‘the new girl’ by the other two.”

The colonel offered Janet a sandwich.