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The silence lasted until Lesley came back with a cup and saucer.

"I'm afraid there isn't much tea left. I hope you don't mind it strong."

"Oh, no. I like strong tea." And she smiled as she swallowed the bitter, lukewarm dregs.

She hoped the daughter would not revive the subject her mother had made so painful. But Lesley seemed quite without curiosity. She occupied herself with shaking the teapot to see if any more tea would come out of it.

"I could do with some more myself; tea's supposed to be cooling on a hot day. Never mind, dinner will soon be ready."

"I doubt if it will," said Iris, "considering Mrs. Ashplant had no idea I was coming till I phoned from the station. What is it, Sale?"

Sale had appeared on the terrace outside.

"Please'm. What about the luggage? Who's going to take it to the farm?"

"Oh, that's all right," cried Lesley. "Mrs. Gailey's staying here."

"But I thought your secretary always lived at the farm," said Iris, her voice on edge.

"There isn't any room for her now. Mr. Hightower's still there, and when he goes I want his room for the eldest Benson boy. He's getting too old to sleep with his sisters."