"Surely we might get one somewhere to-day," suggested Radmore.

"Get one to-day--what an extraordinary idea? Motor bonnets don't grow on
hedges--"

But when they were going through--was it Horsham?--Radmore, alone of the
three, espied a funny little shop. It was called "The Bandbox": its
woodwork was painted bright green, and in the window were three hats.

"Now then," he exclaimed, slowing down, "this, I take it, is where motor
bonnets grow. At any rate we'll get down and see."

"What a lark!" cried Timmy delightedly. "Please, _please_ Betty, don't
make yourself disagreeable--don't be a 'govvey'!"

And Betty, not wishing to be a "govvey," got out of the car.

"But I've no money with me," she began.

"I wouldn't let you pay for what's going to be a present," said Radmore
shortly. "You're the only inhabitant of Old Place to whom I haven't given
a present since I've been home."

Home? It gave Betty such pleasure to hear him call it that.

They all three marched into the tiny shop where the owner of "The
Bandbox," described by Timmy to his mother, later, as a "rather
spidery-looking, real lady," sat sewing.

She received them with a mixture of condescension and pleasure at the