“I found it in the woods,” she said, as Mr. Deeling gazed at her. “We must have a funeral. Come and help me, Mr. Deeling.”
Mr. Deeling rose to his feet. The sight of this grown woman in her girlish frock, crooning over that dreadful trophy, disturbed even his unimaginative soul.
“Drop that disgusting thing at once,” he said sternly. “Go to your room and wash your face and hands.”
For answer Miss Collett dropped the bird, and seizing the apron which she wore round her waist, burst into tears.
Mr. Deeling took a step forward, uncertain what to do, but at that moment Constance appeared round the corner of the castle. She was in tweeds and carrying a bag of golf clubs. She walked straight up to him, and, taking no notice of Miss Collett or the thing at her feet, threw down her clubs on to
