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“Oh, yes, madam. There’s nowhere like Plasencia—and no one like Granny and Auntie!”

There was a definite matter upon which the Doña wanted information; but it required delicate handling. She was on the point of approaching it by asking if the children were not very lonely at Cambridge, but realising that this would be a reflection upon Nanny she immediately abandoned it—no one could deal more cavalierly, when she chose, with the feelings of others than the Doña; but she never inadvertently hurt a fly.

So what she said was, “I suppose Dr. Sinclair is always very busy?”

“Oh, yes—always working away at his stocks and his chickens,” said Nanny placidly, holding a small hole up to the light. “He’s managed to get that bit of ground behind the garden, and he’s planted it with nothing but stocks. He lets Anna help him with the chickens. She’s becoming quite a little companion to her Daddy.”

“That is delightful,” purred the Doña; then, after a pause, “He must be terribly lonely, poor man.”

“Oh, yes, he frets a lot, I’m sure; but, of course, gentlemen don’t show it so much.”