“You’re the best small sport in the world, and your little finger is worth the whole Stirling clan tied together. Good-bye and good-luck.”

Valancy went out to the garden. Her legs trembled a little, but otherwise she felt and looked composed. She held something tightly in her hand. The garden was lying in the magic of the warm, odorous July twilight. A few stars were out and the robins were calling through the velvety silences of the barrens. Valancy stood by the gate expectantly. Would he come? If he did not —

He was coming. Valancy heard Lady Jane Grey far back in the woods. Her breath came a little more quickly. Nearer — and nearer — she could see Lady Jane now — bumping down the lane — nearer — nearer — he was there —