become of her after that little plot had been played out? Sheila
could not leave Mairi to see London by herself: she had been enjoying
beforehand the delight of taking the young girl about and watching the
wonder of her eyes. Nor could she fairly postpone Mairi's visit, and
Mairi was coming up in another couple of days.

On the morning on which the visitor from the far Hebrides was to make
her appearance in London, Sheila felt conscious of a great hypocrisy
in bidding good-bye to her husband. On some excuse or other she had
had breakfast ordered early, and he found himself ready at half-past
nine to go out for the day.

"Frank," she said, "will you come in to lunch at two?"

"Why?" he asked: he did not often have luncheon at home.

"I will go into the Park with you in the afternoon if you like," she
said: all the scene had been diligently rehearsed on one side, before.

Lavender was a little surprised, but he was in an amiable mood.

"All right!" he said. "Have something with olives in it. Two, sharp."

With that he went out, and Sheila, with a wild commotion at her heart,
saw him walk away through the square. She was afraid Mairi might
have arrived before he left. And, indeed, he had not gone above a few
minutes when a four-wheeler drove up, and an elderly man got out and
waited for the timid-faced girl inside to alight. With a rush like
that of a startled deer, Sheila was down the stairs, along the hall
and on the pavement; and it was, "Oh, Mairi! and have you come at