A

fter tea, Betsy showed me the changes to the green-house. The wooden floor had been polished and was gleaming and lovely.

"Why haven't you brought in the tables?" I asked.

"Our party, Oliver, surely you haven't forgotten."

I had indeed - The Incident happened directly after we discussed the party, and it quite blotted the memory out. Betsy, meanwhile, had been busy making plans. She had written a letter to the Gimmerton Band asking them if they might consider performing, what their prices were, etc.

"The Gimmerton Band?" I replied "there's at least a dozen members in that group, that's no string quartet. They have trumpets, French horns, an entire brass section. You won't fit them all, and their instruments, into the green-house."

Betsy explained that she had decided to have a garden party all around the green-house and guests could enter the green-house during the course of the evening. She was quite set on it, and did not worry about the expense.

I offered to take the letter to the post office for her myself, but she insisted that she come along to "keep me company." As I did not know how to gracefully decline, we set out together the next morning. Betsy was dressed very well, unusually well for an excursion to the post office. She was attired in pink silk this time, of all things, and it displayed her bosom to the point of indecency - I had never seen her so brazenly attired. And again she wore the pendant. However, the trip was not unpleasant in spite of this, as the scenery and the act of walking itself was a fresh and wholesome way to pass the time. We kept a fairly brisk pace, and had plenty of scenery to view, so I was not obliged to continually train my eyes away from my companion's snug pendant.

And so we had a pleasant, uneventful time to the post office and half-way back again. At that point we were having a conversation about my days in school - Betsy loved to be regaled by tales of the various scrapes and adventures from my reckless youth - when she suddenly grew quiet and a look of dismay crossed her face.

"What is wrong?" I inquired.

"Oh, just a little head-ache" was her response. As ladies do often get head-aches, I thought nothing of it. Then in the distance we saw a carriage coming towards us. As it passed I saw it was Lady Hilliard and so I tipped my hat to her. Just then I heard Betsy whisper to herself: "she knows dear goddess."

I asked her what she meant, but in response she asked "Do you know Lady Hilliard?" I admitted I did, and in fact we were on quite good terms because I had donated a fair amount to the Ladies Missionary Society.

The rest of our journey home was very quiet indeed. For once Betsy did not seem to have an interest in my school days, even when I did my impression of the Scottish headmaster, which normally drove her into fits of giggles. And so I dropped her off, with the advice she should lie down in a dark room, and went home. I did not expect to see Betsy until the next day at the earliest, and so I was very surprised when she appeared on my doorstep, unannounced at tea-time, looking quite grave. On seeing me she said: "I must give you something."

(To be continued...)