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made.
    “When we’ve gone to school, you’ll go away and leave us,” she said quietly.
    “No, darling. I promised to stay today.”
    Robbie made a practical suggestion. “Look, if I went down to the ferry instead of going to school, I’d know if there was any news and then I could come and tell you, Aunt Judy.”
    “Then I could stay at home with you,” Susan put in quickly.
    Judith yielded. After Robbie left, she and Susan pottered around the house, making beds and tidying. When she looked at the clock, she could scarcely believe that the time was only a few minutes past eight.
    Stuart came when she was out in the garden, feeding the hens.
    “Aren’t you ready? You’ll lose the only train of the day, the only one that will get the connection at Stirling.”
    “I’m not going today. I may stay longer.”
    “Are you worried about Robbie and Susan? Granna will be delighted to have them at our house.”
    “That’s very kind of Mrs. Huntly, but Andy must decide where they go.”
    “I came to take you all down to the ferry,” he said slowly. “Then I’d intended to see you on the train and take the children back home with us.”
    A smile curved the corners of her mouth. “You seem over-anxious to get rid of me. I’ve told my employers that I shan’t be at work tomorrow. This is Thursday, and I’ll take Friday and Saturday off and make up for them another time.”
    She would not say aloud in Susan’s presence that by Sunday surely there ought to be news of Barbara.
    Stuart was on the point of leaving when Robbie came hurrying towards the house. The boy’s white face warned Judith that he was not bringing good news.
    “Dad telephoned Mrs. Fraser. He’s gone to Glasgow.”
    “Glasgow?” echoed Judith.
    “Yes. Muni’s in hospital there.”
    “An accident?” Stuart asked.
    “Mrs. Fraser didn’t know,” Robbie replied.
    Susan clung to Judith. “I want to go to Mummy. She’s ill, and I want to see her,” she whimpered.
    Over the child’s head, Judith met Stuart’s glance. “We’d better go over to Frasers’ and see what further news there is,” Stuart suggested.
    The two children ran on ahead and she walked with Stuart, strangely comforted by his presence at her side.
    At the ferry house, Mrs. Fraser spoke quietly. “I could not be telling the lad all that Andy said. Mrs. Greenwood was found on Glasgow station in a state of collapse. She was taken to hospital, and Andy is on his way now. That is all he had time to tell me.”
    “You don’t know which hospital?” Stuart queried.
    Mrs. Fraser shook her head.
    “Pity. Otherwise we could ring and ask for details.” After a few moments, he said, “Look, Judith, there’s no point in your going back to the house yet. Let me take you and Robbie and Susan over to my place. We shall be able to get quickly whatever news comes along and the children can roam about the gardens to take their minds off their worries.”
    As they walked up the long drive towards the big grey stone house, Judith said, “I wish I’d persuaded Barbara to come with us yesterday to Port Appin. Then this accident—or illness—would never have happened.”
    “And by now you’d be in the train speeding away to London.”
    She turned her head slightly towards him, but he was staring straight ahead. It was impossible to detect from his tone or manner whether he was glad or sorry that she had been forced to stay. But underneath her own pain and anxiety for her sister was a flicker of quickening interest in his reactions.
    Most of the day went by before Judith learned anything more definite about Barbara’s mysterious illness. About six in the evening, Stuart and Andy drove up to Garranmure together, for Stuart had gone to Cruban while Judith stayed with the children.
    “What is it? What happened?” she asked.
    “Barbara caught the evening train to Glasgow,” Stuart explained, giving Andy time to recover himself. “She had a single ticket to London, but instead of