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 ton. She did what she could; she wrote and invited Caroline to spend a day at Great Mop. She did not suppose that this was the right interpretation, but she could think of no other.

All the birds were singing as Laura went down the lane to meet Caroline's car. It was almost like summer, nothing could be more fortunate. Caroline was dressed in sensible tweeds. "It was raining when I left London," she said, and glanced severely at Laura's cotton gown.

"Was it?" said Laura. "It hasn't rained here." She stopped. She looked carefully at the blue sky. There was not a cloud to be seen. "Perhaps it will rain later on," she added. Caroline also looked at the sky, and said: "Probably."

Conversation was a little difficult, for Laura did not know how much she was still in disgrace. She asked after everybody in a rather guilty voice, and heard how emphatically they all throve, and what a pleasant, cheerful winter they had all spent. After that came the distance from Wickendon and the hour of departure. In planning the conduct of the day, Laura had decided to keep the church for after lunch. Before lunch she would show Caro-