“No, no, this is still very hot,” she asserted. “This will be quite all right, I’ll water it out a bit and it won’t be too strong.”

Jennie departed to the kitchen with the good news, and Sabrina accepted gratefully a cup of the watered tea. As she began on the bacon, which was still appetizing, she watched Father gather up a handful of letters beside his plate.

“Was there anything exciting in the post this morning, Father?” she inquired cunningly.

“Exciting?” He paused beside his chair and appeared to give the word careful consideration, but she knew it was only absentmindedness. “Well, yes, Professor Frinton has made a very interesting discovery in the gruffy-ground at Dolebury. Very. It is, of course, fantastic to say that the ancients built on the hilltops because they liked the view,” he reminded them contentiously. “Dolebury was built for its lead-mines. Now that he has himself found flint on the spot, Frinton may begin to see reason, for he knows very well that there is no flint on Mendip. It was brought here for a purpose, by the long barrow men, a child could see that! Well, I shall drive over there this morning and hear what he has to say for himself.”

“It’s a lovely day for a drive.” Sabrina sighed with open envy of anyone who was setting out into the blue and gold world.

Father sent a suspicious glance at what he could see of the day, through the open casements.

“Mmmmmm,” he said conservatively. “Looks like thunder later. I shall take a mackintosh.”

He escaped with his letters and the Times.

Sabrina sighed again, as the boiled egg arrived before her, accompanied by fresh hot toast in a china rack.

“You know, Auntie, it’s a little frightening,” she said, and brought the spoon down with a smart smack on the shell.

“What, dear—frightening?” Aunt Effie tore herself out of the astrology column in the Express. She was Virgo, and for Virgo people it was a good day for business ventures, and yellow was the lucky color.

“Father, I mean. He might as well be dead.”

“Sabrina!”

“Well, I mean—a glorious morning like this, and he doesn’t even notice till someone points it out, and then he remembers to take his mackintosh. Was Father ever young?”

“Well, dear, ever since your poor mother died—”

“Yes, I know, that must have been dreadful for him. But even if the person you love best in the world does die—and you are left behind—it’s only a matter of time, isn’t it, till you catch them up again.”

“Well, darling, I think that sounds rather heartless,” began Aunt Effie, with a vague doubt somewhere that it could be quite as simple as that. “And besides, you’re much too young to—”

“I didn’t mean it to sound heartless at all. I only meant that Father needn’t—”