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She was smiling with the sheer joy of being alive on such a day as she passed the
Seven Stars
and it was only at the last moment that she saw John had left his typing and was now on deck.

It was rather an embarrassing situation for Rosamund. She had only seen him at a distance since the day when he had so unceremoniously bundled her off his boat and she had no idea whether Miss Alice had carried out her intention of telling him that the purse had been recovered.

The smile faded from her face. His back was towards her, so it might be possible to pass without him seeing her. She hoped that it would be. It would save any further chance of unpleasantness.

But she was unlucky. More than once during the day the pollen-laden summer air had made her sneeze. It did so again with no warning whatever just as she came up to the
Seven Stars.
It wasn’t a very loud sneeze, but it was enough to make John turn sharply. What was more, when he saw who it was, he came across his gangway and stood blocking her way along the path.

Rosamund stood still. She knew quite well that it would be impossible to dodge past him. There simply wasn’t room, and John would certainly stay just where he was until he had said whatever was in his mind. All her earlier happiness evaporated. Was he still angry with her and was he going to make more trouble? She didn’t want him to. She wanted to be friends with everybody in this little paradise into which she had strayed. But while it took only one person to pick a quarrel, it took two to make a friendship.

She waited in silence for him to speak, her grave eyes on his face—and then saw with relief that though he, too, looked very serious, he didn’t look angry.

“I—I’m glad we’ve met, Miss Hastings,” he announced with a diffidence which Rosamund found more surprising than anger would have been. “I—I owe you an apology. You see, I’ve been informed that you told me the truth about your purse—”

“Oh, please!” Rosamund said quickly, finding to her own surprise that though she was glad he knew she hadn’t lied to him, it gave her no pleasure at all for him to have to eat humble pie. “I’ve realised since that you weren’t to blame for thinking what you did. It must have sounded a most unlikely story.”

‘‘'It shouldn’t have done to me,” John insisted, evidently determined to make a good job of it. “Not seeing that only a few days earlier, I left my wallet in the village general store!”

“Oh—I don’t know,” Rosamund said consideringly, her fair head on one side. “It must have seemed just too much of a coincidence, almost as if I might have heard of that—Mrs. Watchett
is
such a chatterbox—and decided that I might as well try it on!”

“You know, you’re heaping coals of fire on my head,” he told her wryly. “Because, until this moment, such an idea hadn’t occurred to me. No, I was just flaming angry—”

“At having other people’s problems thrust upon you when you’d just got everything nicely settled so that you could get on with your work in peace?” Rosamund suggested as he paused.

“That was just it,” he replied eagerly. “Although—” dubiously, “put into so many words it sounds rather egotistic, doesn’t it?”

“Not if it’s a question of—of self-preservation,” Rosamund said with so much conviction that John, she saw, looked at her with very lively interest.

“You know, that sounds as if you know what you’re talking about—as if you’ve experienced the same sort of thing yourself!”

“Does it?” Rosamund asked lightly. “Well, I suppose everyone does at some time or other! And please, don’t worry any more. After all, there was no harm done.”

“But no thanks to me,” John pointed out grimly. “What would you have done if Miss Coates hadn’t happened to come along just at that moment?”

Involuntarily Rosamund shivered and though she did not realise it, there was a strained look in her face which spoke for itself. It was a question that she had more than once asked herself—

“I honestly don’t know,” she confessed.

“No, and nor do I. A pretty girl on her own with no money—I could at least have given you a pound or two without being so infernally cocksure and superior!”

He was angry now—but with himself—a very different state of affairs from the way he had been at their first meeting.

“Well, I’m glad you didn’t lend me any money," Rosamund declared stoutly. “I shouldn’t have got to know Miss Alice—or Dr. Rob—and they are such dears! ”

“I thought he looked rather pleasant,” John acknowledged, “but she’s something of a dragon, isn’t she?”

“Is she?” Rosamund suddenly dimpled. “I wonder what makes you think that?”

“My guilty conscience, I expect,” John admitted wryly.

Rosamund laughed. She couldn’t help it. He looked so like a small boy caught scrumping apples. Then her face grew serious.

“Actually, she’s the most tender-hearted person I’ve ever met,” she said softly. “And I can never repay her for the way she’s taken me under her wing. But that, you see, is the very reason why—”

“Why she had it in for me,” John-finished. “She thinks of me as a wolf who threatened her ewe lamb!”

“Well, perhaps,” Rosamund conceded. Then, as she heard the church clock strike the quarter hour: “Goodness, I must rush! I’m going to be late making tea as it is.” She hesitated and then took the plunge. “Mr. Lindsay, won’t you have tea with us so that you can get to know Miss Alice properly?”

“Shall I be welcome?” John asked doubtfully.

“Oh yes,” Rosamund told him serenely. “She much prefers living at peace with people, and if you come with me, she’ll know that everything is all right.” The mischief danced in her eyes again. “I can promise you that the dragon won’t breathe fire at you.”

“In that case, I’d like to come,” John said simply, and clearly meant it, although he would have been hard put to explain how it came about that his original intention of keeping his neighbours at arm’s length now seemed both short-sighted and unnecessary.

Miss Alice didn’t breathe fire when she saw him approaching, but she was surprised. She had already appreciated that though Rosamund had plenty of spirit, she was none the less essentially gentle by nature. That being so, no doubt she’d be able to forgive this young man for his harsh treatment of her, but surely they wouldn’t be on the friendly terms they obviously were without his cooperation.

However, neither of them gave any explanation of the new state of affairs and Miss Alice had no intention of asking any questions. None the less, when Rosamund had left them to get the tea, she surveyed the unexpected guest with an artist’s shrewd eyes.

Now that his face was not marred by that angry expression, she saw that he was really quite good-looking though not conventionally handsome. His features were good—clean-cut and well proportioned. His chin was, perhaps, rather noticeably strong, but his mouth was sensitive. It made rather a pleasant combination, she thought. And he looked you straight in the eyes.

“Do sit down, Mr. Lindsay,” she said pleasantly.

For a moment or two there was silence. Then their eyes let and they both smiled. With relief John knew that there was no need for explanations or apologies. This was fresh start.

Rosamund came back to find them deep in conversion.

“And you’re finding this a good place for working?” Miss Alice was saying.

“First class,” John replied enthusiastically. “Though that doesn’t mean I haven’t struck snags—”

“Yes?” Miss Alice encouraged.

“Yes. You see, I’ve had my plot in mind for months, but when it came to turning it into people, I knew that here was something wrong. The result just wasn’t convincing. At first I thought I’d have to change my plot to suit my characters. Then, this afternoon, I realised that it was the other way round. I’d been so in love with my plot that I hadn’t given sufficient thought to just what sort of people would behave and react in a realistic way in such circumstances. They just didn’t come off the paper!”

“So?”

“Heroic measures! I’ll have to re-write everything I’ve done.” He sounded surprisingly cheerful in the circumstances. “The girl in particular—”

At that moment Rosamund came out with the laden tea-tray and as John jumped up to take it from her, something in his expression made Miss Alice wonder.

She had more than once visited the
Seven Stars
the previous year when Charles Thomas had been working there and now she visualised the layout of the day cabin.

The table at which John must almost certainly work was just under the big window that overlooked the canal bank. Rosamund had been sitting on the bank most of the afternoon.

Was there any connection between those two facts , and his new conception of the girl of his play?

If so, Rosamund would naturally be entirely unaware of the influence she had had. But John?

Had it seemed to him to be a matter of inner vision—or had he known that he was drawing from life? Even more important than that, if he had realised it, had it been personally significant to him?

Miss Alice gave herself a mental shake. Really, she was behaving like a hen with one chick! For all that she knew, the girl of the play might be a thoroughly undesirable character and not in the least like Rosamund. In any case, young people of today felt themselves to be completely competent to manage their own affairs! She must remember that!

She gave her entire attention to pouring out the tea. None the less, it was impossible not be aware that they seemed to have a lot to say to one another—

How could she help wondering
if
anything came of it, would it simplify life for Rosamund or complicate it still further?

And what would Rob feel about it?

“MISS ALICE, I'm getting
fat
!”

Miss Alice looked up into the pretty, dismayed face and smiled reassuringly.

“Not exactly fat, dear. You’d have a long way to go to get to that state! But I think you have put on a little weight—and very well it becomes you! When we first met you looked as if a puff of wind would blow you away.”

“Yes, but, Miss Alice, one simply can’t afford to be fat in my—” Rosamund stopped short. She had so very nearly said more than was wise, even where Miss Alice was concerned. That final word had been
job
, and there were only a comparatively few occupations to which the remark really applied. The stage, perhaps, or film acting. But certainly the world of fashion doesn’t tolerate bulges! “I mean,” she went on hurriedly, “if I’m not careful, none of my clothes will fit me, and think how expensive that will be!”

It sounded very lame to her own ears, but Miss Alice accepted it without comment.

“I’ll have to take more exercise—and not eat so much,” Rosamund lamented. “And it’s awful to confess, but I do enjoy my food so much!"

“Not awful in the least,” Miss Alice told her briskly. “Just natural, particularly at your age. In fact, to most people, eating is one of the natural pleasures of life. It needs to be since it’s essential to life and health. Think how awful it would be if we found it so disagreeable that we had to force ourselves to eat! But you know, I wouldn’t have said that you have a very big appetite. In fact, I would go so far as to say that if, before you came here, you ate less than you do now, then you weren’t having enough. Or, of course,” she added thoughtfully, “it could be that the circumstances in which you eat now are different—”

“What do you mean?”

Rosamund was conscious of the sharpness of her voice and knew that once again she had been incautious. She waited breathlessly for Miss Alice’s reply.

“Simply, my dear, that you’re living in much healthier conditions than it’s possible to in London with its overcrowding and its polluted air. And our meals here are very leisurely and regular affairs. I expect that you, like most girls who work, had only a limited time to gobble down anything so long as it was quick to eat Or even that you went without anything at midday if you wanted to do any shopping.”

Unconsciously Rosamund drew a sigh of relief. It was all in such general terms that it could apply to any girl— “Yes, that happens sometimes,” she admitted. But not because she wanted to do any shopping. Because Aunt Ruth lost all sense of time and the need to eat if work was pressing. And she expected everyone else to show the same devotion. That sort of situation had been happening with increasing frequency lately. Indeed, it was one reason why—but Miss Alice, she suddenly realised, had evidently said something more for she was waiting expectantly.

“I was woolgathering, I’m afraid,” Rosamund confessed. “Would you mind saying it again?”

“It wasn’t all that important. Just that I’m going into
l town this morning and I wondered if you’d like to come also."

Rosamund considered.

"I would love to see Bath, some time,” she said at length. “I’ve never been there yet—in fact, I’ve hardly been anywhere. But there are several things I really ought do."

"Not housework?” Miss Alice asked quickly. “I don't want you to feel tied down, dear, particularly on a lovely like this!”

Rosamund smiled at her with very real affection.

"I don’t feel tied in the least,” she said earnestly. “In fact I’ve never felt freer in my life. But no, it isn’t housework. It’s just that I must look through my clothes to see if I can let them out a little. This waistband is really uncomfortably tight. And then I thought I’d go for a I long walk. That ought to help! ”

"So it might,” Miss Alice agreed placidly.

"All the same, I don’t mind housework,” Rosamund went on reflectively. “Oh, I know, some of it’s dull and it can disagreeable at times and you have to do the same thing over and over again. All the same, it does turn a house into a home, doesn’t it?”

"That's f you don’t overdo it,” Miss Alice suggested dryly. “A woman who is over-houseproud is a menace to both the comfort and happiness of her entire family!”

"Yes, I expect so,” Rosamund agreed, and then, hardly realising that she was speaking her thoughts aloud, she went on dreamily: “It must be wonderful to have one’s own home and family—”