It was barely half-an-hour’s run to Burchester Park which was thrown open to the public for the great occasion.  The Castle also was open on that day, and visitors thronged thither from every quarter.

A long procession of conveyances stood outside the great iron gates of the Park, but the squire, owing to an acquaintanceship with Lord Saltash’s bailiff, held a permit that enabled him to drive in.  They went up the long avenue of firs that led to the great stone building, but ere they reached it the strains of a band told them that the flower-show was taking place in an open space on their right close to the entrance to the terraced gardens which occupied the southern slope in front of the house.

Fielding ran the car into a deep patch of shade beside the road, and stopped.  “We had better get out here,” he said.

Juliet’s hand slipped free.  Dick threw her a smile and jumped out.

“Will the car be all right?” he said, as he turned to help her down.

“Oh, right enough,” the squire said.  “There is no traffic along here.”

“I am hoping to go into the house,” said Vera.  “But I suppose it will be crammed with people.”

“We’ll do the flower-show first anyhow,” said Fielding.

He led the way with her, and it seemed quite natural to Juliet that Green should fall in beside her.  It was a cloudless day, and she had an almost childish feeling of delight in its splendour.  She was determined to enjoy herself to the utmost.

They entered the first sweltering tent and in the throng she felt again the touch of Dick’s hand at he came behind.  “We mustn’t lose each other,” he said, with a laugh.

The midsummer madness was upon her, and, without looking at him she squeezed the fingers that gripped her arm.

In a moment his voice spoke in her ear.  “Look here!  Let’s get away!  Let’s get lost!  It’s the easiest thing in the world.  We can’t all hang together in this crowd.”

This was quite evident.  The great marquee was crammed with people, and already Fielding was piloting his wife to the opening at the other end.

“We must just look round,” murmured Juliet, “for decency’s sake.”

“All right, my dear, look!” he said.  “And when you’ve quite finished we’ll go out by the way we came and explore the gardens.”

She threw him a glance that expressed acquiescence and a certain mead of amused appreciation.  For somehow Dick Green in his blue serge and straw hat managed to look smarter if less immaculate than any of the white-waistcoated band of local magnates around them.  So—­for decency’s sake—­she prowled round the tent with Dick at her shoulder, admiring everything she saw and forgetting as soon as she had admired.  She told herself that it was a day of such supreme happiness as could not come twice in any lifetime, and because of it she lingered, refusing to hasten the moment for which Dick had made provision.