“Oh, but you should kiss Cinders too,” she said.  “I love kissing Cinders.  He is like satin.”

“If we don’t start we shall never get there,” observed Mordaunt.

“What an obvious remark!” laughed Chris.  “Let’s start at once.  I hope you are going to scorch.  Wouldn’t it be funny if the motor broke down and we had to spend the night under a hedge?  We should enjoy that, shouldn’t we, Cinders?  We would pretend we were gipsies or organ-grinders.  Oh, Trevor, it is a sweet motor!  Do let me drive!”

“While I sit behind with Cinders?” he said.  “Thanks very much, but I’d rather not.  Do you think we want Cinders, by the way?”

She opened her eyes wide in astonishment.  Her motor-bonnet gave her a very babyish appearance.  She hugged her favourite to her as she might have hugged a doll.

“Of course we want Cinders!  Why, he has been looking forward to it for ever so long.  Kellerton is home to him, you know.”

“Oh, very well!  Jump in,” said Mordaunt, with resignation.  “Are you going to sit beside me?”

“Of course we are.  We can see better in front.  Oh, Trevor, I am horrid.  I quite forgot to thank you for that lovely, lovely ring.  I’m wearing it round my neck, because I had to wash Cinders this morning, and I was afraid of hurting it.  I’ve never worn a ring before.  And it was so dear of you to remember that I liked turquoise and pearl.  I was furious with Aunt Philippa because—­” She broke off abruptly.

Mordaunt was starting the motor, but as they skimmed smoothly away he spoke.  “Aunt Philippa thought it ought to have been diamonds, I suppose?”

“Well, yes,” Chris admitted, turning very red.  “But I—­I didn’t agree with her.  Diamonds are not to be compared with pearls.”

“You are not old enough for diamonds, dear,” he said.  “I will give you diamonds later.”

“Oh, but I don’t want any.”  Shyly her hand pressed his knee.  “Please don’t give me too much, Trevor,” she said.  “I shall never dare to ask for the things I really want if you do.  Aunt Philippa thinks I’m getting horribly spoilt as it is.”

“I don’t,” he said.

“How nice of you, Trevor!  Do you know I’m so happy to-day, I want to sing.”

“You may sing to your heart’s content when we get out into the country,” he said.

She laughed.  “No, no!  Cinders would howl.  How cleverly you drive!  You will teach me some day, won’t you?  Do you know, I dreamt I was driving your organ-grinder last night.  Do tell me about him.  Is he really a friend of yours?”

“Yes, really, Chris.”

“How exciting!” said Chris, keenly interested.  “And what are you going to do with him?”

“I haven’t decided at present.  He has had a pretty bad spell of starvation.  I don’t know yet what he is fit for.”

“It must be dreadful to starve,” said Chris soberly.  “It’s bad enough not to have any pocket-money.  But to starve—­Is he ill, then?”