Berry And Co. | Page 4

opening the door.
We were well under way before I had taken my seat. As we came to the
bend I threw a glance over my shoulder, to see four figures that I knew
standing without the lich-gate. They appeared to be arguing. As we
turned the corner a stentorian voice yelled--
"The Bloodstock road, sir! I can see their blinkin' dust."
Perched on one of the lower branches of a wayside oak, Will Noggin
was pointing a shaking finger in the direction he named.
* * * * *
We were less than three miles from Bloodstock when the off hind tire
burst. Miss Deriot brought the car to the side of the road and stopped in
the shadow of an old barn.
"That," she said, "has just done it."

I opened the door and stepped down into the road.
"It means a delay when we least want it," said I ruefully.
"Worse. I've had one burst already, and I only brought one spare
wheel."
I whistled.
"Then we are indeed done," said I. "I'm awfully sorry. Heaven knows
how far you are from your home. This comes of helping a comparative
stranger. Let it be a lesson to you."
My companion smiled.
"I don't mind for myself," she said, "but what about your car?"
I spread out my hands.
"Reason dictates that I should foot-slog it to Bloodstock and try and get
the police moving; but I can't leave you here."
"You can easily, but you're not going to. I don't want to sit here for the
rest of the day." She pointed to the barn. "Help me to get her in here,
and then we'll push off to Bloodstock together."
A hurried reconnaissance led to the discovery of a little farmhouse, and
two minutes later I was making urgent representations to the owner of
the barn. To our relief the latter proved sympathetic and obliging, and
before we again took to the road the two-seater was safely under lock
and key.
"And now," said Miss Deriot, "how did it happen?"
"The theft? I can't imagine. We left that fool who yelled at us in charge.
I suppose he left her to get a drink or something. This is only the fourth
time we've had her out," I added gloomily.
"Oh, I say! Never mind. You're bound to get her again. Look at that

meadow-sweet. Isn't it lovely? I wish I could paint. Can you?"
"I painted a key-cupboard once. It was hung, too. Outside the
stillroom."
"Pity you didn't keep it up," said Miss Deriot. "It's a shame to waste
talent like that. Isn't it just broiling? I should love a bathe now."
"I hope you don't wear stockings in the water," said I.
Miss Deriot glanced at her white ankles.
"Is that a reflection?" she demanded.
I shook my head.
"By no manner of means. But there's a place for everything, isn't there?
I mean----"
We both laughed.
"That's better," said my companion. "I couldn't bear to see you so
worried this beautiful morning."
"My dear," said I, "you've a nice kind heart, and I thank you."
"Don't mention it," said Miss Deriot.
From the crown of her broad-brimmed hat to the soles of her buckskin
shoes she was the pink of daintiness. Health was springing in her fresh
cheeks, eagerness danced in her eyes, energy leapt from her carriage.
Had she been haughty, you would have labelled her "Diana," and have
done with it; but her eyes were gentle, and there was a tenderness about
her small mouth that must have pardoned Actæon. A plain gold
wrist-watch on a black silk strap was all her jewellery.
"We'd better strike across the next field," said Miss Deriot. "There's a
path that'll bring us out opposite The Thatcher. It'll save us about five
minutes."

"You might have been born here," said I.
"I was," said Agatha. She nodded towards a beech wood that stood a
furlong away. "The trees hide the house. But we left when I was seven,
and only came back to the County five years ago. And here's our field."
The five-barred gate was padlocked. I looked at my companion.
"Shall I get over, advance ten paces, and gaze Into the middle distance?
Or aren't you that sort?"
Miss Deriot flung back her head and laughed.
"I'd rather you gave me a leg up," she said.
With a hand on my shoulder and a foot in my hand she was up and over
in an instant. I vaulted after her.
"You know," I said, "we ought to perform, you and I. With a painter's
ladder, a slack wire, and a little practice, we should do wonders. On
non-matinée days I might even lift you with my teeth. That always goes
well, and no one would know you