was a wonderful old cabinet, black and red and gold, very mysterious, and oak chests, and two fat white Indian idols sitting cross-legged on the mantelpiece. It was very delightful; but Molly liked it best in the daytime. And she was glad of the night-light.
She thought of Bertie, and Cicely, and Eva, and baby, and Vincent, and wondered whether measles hurt much.
Next day Aunt Maria was quite bearable. The worst thing she said was about people coming when they weren't expected, and upsetting everything.
'I'll try not to upset anything,' said Molly, and went out and got the gardener to put up a swing for her.
Then she upset herself out of it, and got a bump on her forehead the size of a hen's egg, and that, as Aunt Maria very properly said, kept her out of mischief for the rest of the day.
Next morning Molly had two letters. The first was from Bertie. It said:
Dear Molly,
It is rough lines on you, but we did not mean to keep it up, and it is your fault for
