Bilberry road.

Before we had covered two furlongs, we swung round a corner to see a
smart two-seater at rest by the dusty hedgerow, and a slight dark girl
in fresh blue and white standing with one foot on the step, wiping her
dainty fingers on a handful of cotton-waste.

"Agatha!" cried Daphne and Jill. "Stop, Boy, stop!"

Obediently I slowed to a standstill, as my lady came running after us.

"You might have told me," she panted. "I never knew you were back. And I
am so glad."

"We only arrived on Friday, dear," said Daphne, and introduced Berry and
me. Jonah, it appeared, had met Miss Deriot at tennis in 1914.

"But you had your hair down then," he said gravely.

"It's a wonder I haven't got it down now," said Miss Deriot. "Why didn't
you come along ten minutes earlier? Then you could have changed my
tire."

"And why are you driving away from church?" said Jill.

"One of the colts has sprained his shoulder, and we're out of
embrocation; so I'm going to get some from Brooch."

"I'll come with you," said Berry eagerly, preparing to leave the car. "I
don't like to think of you----"