Never had time gone by so quickly as with these two eager workers! In the old days time had hung sometimes very heavily on Harry Garlett’s hands during the late autumn and winter months. But now he found there were not hours enough for all he wanted to do.

With the brain side of the business increasing at the rate it was doing, it became necessary to engage a new shorthand writer, and at the suggestion of Jean Bower, the daughter 49of a local solicitor killed in the war was given the coveted post. This was considered a kindly and generous act on Miss Bower’s part. Most young women in the position in which she found herself would not have cared to have another girl, younger, most people would have said prettier, than herself, sharing her secretarial position.

49

But, as a matter of fact, Jean no longer took down letters. Almost at once, though neither she nor Harry Garlett realized it, she had slipped into the position of a partner. They were a happy family at the Etna China works. “All jolly and friendly together,” as the head foreman expressed it.

And then, late in November, a word was uttered which changed, for ever, both their lives.

It was Sunday evening, and Harry Garlett was on his way to supper at Bonnie Doon. He went out often to dinner, having a large circle of acquaintances, but he generally had supper with the Macleans on Sunday, and as it was with him a dull, solitary day he used to look forward very eagerly to the evening. Since his return home, on the pretext that he was still in mourning, he no longer accepted invitations for week-end visits.

To-night, as he passed the Thatched Cottage, Miss Prince came running out of her door; it was almost as if she had been waiting for him.

“Harry!” she exclaimed. “May I walk a few yards with you? I want to ask you a favour.” Inconsequently, she added: “Your wife and I were lifelong friends, you know.”

She began walking along the road by his side, anxious to be quite out of earshot of her maid, who, by the way, was Lucy Warren. Lucy had always been a favourite of Miss Prince, and, to Agatha Cheale’s indignation, after the girl’s dismissal from the Thatched House, she had at once taken her back into her own service.

“Well, Miss Prince, what can I do for you?”

Harry Garlett never felt quite at ease with the gossiping spinster. 

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