There May Be Danger by Ianthe Jerrold

positively startling in its contrasts of black and white.
    â€œI say,” exclaimed Kate, as they crossed the yard towards a door which stood open on a cool stone passage. “What a stage-setting, Aminta!”
    â€œNice place for kids, anyway,” said Aminta, who was not interested in stage-settings. She knocked casually on the open door, and led the way into a large stone-flagged kitchen, where the sunlight fell picturesquely through a large window over a girl in a yellow jumper and green cord slacks who was setting out cups and saucers on a silver tray.
    â€œAh, here’s the milk!” cried the girl joyfully, looking up. She had a very fresh and attractive voice, with a slight American accent. “I was never more delighted to see anyone in my life, Aminta! Aunt Ellida gave the last drop of yesterday’s to the builders for their morning tea, and we’re quite out.”
    â€œWhatever time of the day I come here, you’re making tea, it seems to me,” observed Aminta, putting her cans down on the table.
    â€œMaud!” called the girl, raising her pretty voice and directing it towards a narrow stone passage that seemed to lead towards the scullery. “Bring two more cups, will you?” She smiled delightfully at Kate. “Aminta, I suppose it’s a secret who your friend is?”
    Aminta in her leisurely way introduced Kate to Rosaleen Morrison. Maud, who at that moment appeared in the doorway with a tea-canister and two cups-and-saucers in her hands, Kate recognised as the tall children’s nurse who had been her travelling companion. They exchanged genial greetings.
    â€œShall I take the tray, into the hall, dear?” said Maud.
    â€œI expect that’s where you’ll find Aunt Ellida,” replied Rosaleen. “I’m afraid you’ll find Major Everyman there, too.”
    â€œMajor Everyman?” inquired Aminta. “Who’s he?”
    â€œMajor Humphries. We call him that because he never utters an original thought. He won’t stay long, though. He’s got to go and say a few clichés to the Home Guard at five o’clock. You‘ll stay for a cup, won’t you, Aminta?”
    â€œSorry, I’m afraid I can’t. I’ve got the cows to feed. In fact, Rosaleen, I must be off, if you’ll just tip out your milk and let me take the cans.”
    â€œOh come, Aminta honey, don’t be so darned virtuous!
    â€œCan’t help it, Rosa, I was made that way. You can give Kate a cup of tea, if you don’t mind. She wants to see the house. Mind she doesn’t cut you out with Gwyn Lupton, though, she s fallen for him. See you later, Kate,” said Aminta casually, and left.
    â€œ Isn’t she lovely, your Aminta?” asked Rosaleen. “I think I’d have just died of ennui here, if it hadn’t been for her!
    â€œHave you been here long?”
    â€œSeven long weary weeks. I had a wire from Auntie saying ‘Children coming next week,’ so I packed my grip and caught the first train for the west. And here we are, seven weeks later, kicking the builder’s pants for all we’re worth, and still we’ve only just got the baths fitted. Aren’t your builders in England just dilatory, Miss Mayhew? It’s quite fascinating the way they go on! What an English builder doesn’t know about shattering folks’ hope of a home to live in, is just nobody’s business!”
    Rosaleen smiled straight up into Kate’s eyes. Our sympathies do not always respond obediently to the recommendations of our friends. But Kate was quite disposed in this case to oblige Aminta, and like Rosaleen Morrison. She had a free and friendly manner that reminded Kate of the young actresses she was so used to. And, now that Kate came to look at her, there was something about her appearance, too—the well-fitting but exotically-coloured slacks, the small soft hands, the sleek, careless wave of