and Nurse Eden (I've been speaking to her) are perfectly trustworthy, and I can rely on you not to say anything—yet at least. It is no good to stir up people unless'
'Oh, I never do—anyhow,' said Mary, and Dr. Hennis went on to the county town.
After all, she told herself, it might, just possibly, have been the collapse of the old stable that had done all those things to poor little Edna. She was sorry she had even hinted at other things, but Nurse Eden was discretion itself. By the time she reached home the affair seemed increasingly remote by its very monstrosity. As she came in, Miss Fowler told her that a couple of aeroplanes had passed half an hour ago.
'I thought I heard them,' she replied, 'I'm going down to the garden now. I've got the paraffin.'
'Yes, but—what have you got on your boots? They're soaking wet. Change them at once.'
Not only did Mary obey but she wrapped the boots in a newspaper, and put them into the string bag with the bottle. So, armed with the longest kitchen poker, she left.
'It's raining again,' was Miss Fowler's last word, 'but—I know you won't be happy till that's disposed of.'
'It won't take long. I've got everything down there, and I've put the lid on the destructor to keep the wet out.'
The shrubbery was filling with twilight by the time she had completed her arrangements and sprinkled the sacrificial oil. As she lit the match
