‘Oh, and before I go, I must explain to you our curious transport arrangements. Saturday is Selbury market day. My car, which, with the driver, holds eight in moderate comfort, goes in, without fail, starting at nine o’clock. Two accommodating gentlemen, Mr Frisby and Mr Tharkell, leave a little later and run up to the Rectory gates, with a view to picking up anyone who has missed Baxter. Baxter will undertake to fulfil any commission – he has been known to buy a hair net for somebody who wanted one but did not wish to spend the morning in Selbury. Once upon a time we had a bus, a real red Eastern Counties bus, but it had so few patrons that now it comes no nearer than Renham. So the procedure is very simple. If you wish to go to Selbury, or to give Baxter an errand, be at the Rectory gate at nine o’clock. If you do not wish to leave so early, or in the unlikely event of seven people being ahead of you, you wait for Mr Frisby or Mr Tharkell. In Walwyk, I must say, we really practise that sadly discredited thing, communism.’

He rose, and smiling down on her, added:

‘It remains for me to say what I should have done when I entered. I hope you’ll be very happy with us, and stay in Walwyk for many, many years.’

‘I hope you’ll be satisfied with my work, Canon Thorby.’ She glanced around. ‘It doesn’t seem to me that anyone could possibly deserve so much.‘

She saw him out and then stood at the door for several minutes, calling, ‘Puss, puss,’ at intervals. The cat did not return, and finally she closed the door and locked it, went through to the kitchen and locked the door that gave upon the little walled yard.

Now, at last, she thought, I am alone in my own house. Quite alone, in my very own house. She returned happily to the unpacking of her books.

Later, when she was undressed and ready for bed in her voluminous old-fashioned nightdress, the work of the most advanced sewing class at Entuba, she knelt down, as was her custom, to say her prayers. After a moment she felt something pressing against her knees. Startled again, she opened her eyes, looked down and saw the cat, arching its back and beginning to purr as it rubbed against her. It must have run in, unobserved, as Canon Thorby left.

‘And where do you sleep, I wonder,’ she said aloud. The cat leaped lightly and gracefully up on to the bed and began to knead the blue eiderdown with its paws.

‘Well, I don’t know that I shall allow you to make a habit of that,’ Miss Mayfield said: ‘But just this once . . .’

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