“Timmy, don’t be vulgar!” exclaimed Janet severely.

Betty began to laugh a little wildly.  “How very, very strange that it should have happened to-day—­”

“I don’t think it’s strange at all,” said Janet quietly.  “The strange thing is that it hasn’t happened before!  But there it is—­they’re engaged now.  He seems to have told her that he thought it wrong to make his offer until he had saved L100.  She has gone over to Oakford, and they are busy making an inventory of the things they will have to buy.”

“Has he actually saved L100?” asked Betty.

“No, he never could have done that.  He’s had a legacy left him, and he seems to think that L100 will start them most splendidly and comfortably on their married life.  He is a fool!”

The door which gave on to the stairs which led from the scullery to the upper floor opened, and Godfrey Radmore stepped down.  “Am I the fool?” he asked pleasantly.

Janet answered, smiling:  “No, no; you’re anything but that.  I was only telling Betty that Dolly and Mr. Barton are engaged at last.”  She turned to Betty.  “Of course, he’s coming to supper to-night.  I’ve been wondering what we can do in the way of something extra to celebrate the occasion.  We were going to have cold mutton.”

“At any rate I’ll go and see what the village pub. can produce in the way of champagne,” exclaimed Godfrey.  He turned to his godson.  “Timmy?  Run up and look at Josephine and her kittens.  I’ve put them in the old night nursery for a bit.”

And then, when the boy had gone, he went up to Janet and, to her surprise, put his arm through hers:  “I’m glad about Dolly,” he said heartily.

“It proves how very little one really knows of human nature.”  She sighed, but it was a happy sigh.  “I was beginning to believe that he would never what Timmy calls ‘pop,’ and yet the poor fellow was only waiting to be a little forward in the world.  Someone’s left him L100, so he felt he could embark on the great adventure.  Your father and I have already talked it over a little”—­she turned to Betty—­“and we think we could squeeze out L100 a year somehow.”

“I think we could,” said Betty, hesitatingly.  “After all, L1 is now only what 8/- was before the War.”

“But not to us,” cried Janet; “not to us!”

And then, to the utter discomfiture of both her companions, she began to laugh and cry together.

Godfrey rushed over to the sink.  He took up a cup, filled it with water, rushed back to where Janet was standing, shaking, trembling all over, making heroic efforts to suppress her mingled tears and laughter, and dashed the water into her face.

“Thank you,” she gasped; “thank you, Godfrey!  I’m all right now.  I may as well tell you both the truth.  There’s been a row—­an awful row—­between Jack and Timmy, and it thoroughly upset me.  It was only over the cat—­over Josephine—­but of course it proved that what Betty and I were talking about this morning is true.  Jack’s madly in love with Mrs. Crofton—­and—­and—­it’s all so pitiful and absurd—­”