' the children wanted to know.

It was Sarel who shouted: "Neptune, of course," and when Alethea asked him why, gave her an impatient look.

"We're reading

"The Little Mermaid" ," he explained, as though that made everything clear.

The children were to stay up for dinner; Alethea, in her room with Nel

unpacking her case, wandered round looking for the exact spot upon which to put the musical box. The little drum table near the window, she decided; it would be safe there because it was out of the way.

She would let the children see it presently.

She had already told them about it and they had listened politely and

she had been encouraged by Sarel's: "Did Papa buy it for you?

' "Well, yes," she had told him carefully, 'we saw it in a shop window and I found it enchanting, so he got it for me.

I shall take care of it always; it's so beautiful.

' Dinner was almost a celebration, with ice cream for the children and

a good deal of talk about Neptune, now cosily asleep upstairs in the playroom with Nero, a little suspicious, but friendly enough, beside him.

They went quite eagerly to bed as a consequence, thanking Alethea for her presents in polite voices, reminding her that Nanny was having her day off, so she would have to give her the sweets in the morning.

Alethea watched them go upstairs and then turned away with a little sigh of relief.

Everything was going to be all right; she had worked herself up for no reason at all.

Even Nanny might be good natured in the morning.

She went back to the drawing room to find Sarre on the point of leaving it.

He said a little absentmindedly: "You'll forgive me, my dear, I have

quite a lot of post to read and I want to catch up on some reading.

' He paused to drop a kiss on her cheek.

"A very pleasant little break," he added, 'we must do it again some

time.

' He went into his study, leaving the door open, and she heard him lift the receiver and dial a number, and Seconds later: "Anna. .

' She couldn't understand any more of what he was saying.

She turned out the lights and went up to bed.

During the last few days she had quite forgotten Anna.

Half way up the staircase she paused to encourage herself with the

reflection that at least the children seemed more friendly.

The bedside lamps were on when she got to her room, her nightgown was lying on the bed and her gown and slippers had been put ready.

How different it was from her little room at her grandmother's house!

She kicked off her shoes and wriggled her toes into the thick pile of

the carpet; she would telephone in the morning and tell her grandmother about her stay in Hamburg.

Sarre had suggested that later on she might like to have her stay.

her thoughts were cheerful as she wandered round the room.

She was brought to a sudden halt by the little drum table.

The musical box wasn't on it; it was on the floor, broken and twisted as though someone had stamped on it.

Alethea picked it up slowly and saw that it was a hopeless wreck, and putting it on the table went to the window.

It was open at the top but there was no breath of wind.

She was closing the curtains again when Nel came in to see if she had everything she wanted and Alethea turned a distressed face to her, and in her fragmental Dutch asked her if she had found the musical box on the floor.

But Nel knew nothing about it; Alethea had known that before she asked.

She wished the girl goodnight and undressed slowly.

It was too late to go and ask the children and possibly a waste of time, and she couldn't tell Sarre because he would get to the bottom of the matter and that would do no one any good, least of all herself.

She got into bed and sat up against her pillows.

For the first time in a long while she allowed herself to cry; first Anna, waiting at the other end of the telephone for Sarre to come home, and now the only present he had bought her broken in pieces.

What was the use of a lovely home and luxury and money in her purse, although she certainly hadn't married for those?

She hadn't married because she loved Sarre either, but here she was, head over heels in love with him, and what, she asked herself fiercely, was the use of that with the wretched Anna so firmly entrenched?

She sobbed herself to sleep.

CHAPTER EIGHT.

alethea wished the children good morning when they got down to breakfast with her usual serenity and tried not to see the apprehension in their blue eyes, and when their father wasn't looking she had more than her fair share of glowering looks too.

She wondered exactly what they would be up to next if she were mean enough to voice her suspicions as to how the musical box had got broken.

She ate her breakfast with a calm she didn't feel, answering Sarre's casual remarks with a brightness which sat ill upon her pretty face, pale from her weeping, the nose still just a trifle pink despite her careful make-up, and then read her letters while he read his.

They had almost finished when Sarre asked carelessly: "And how is our little dancing lady?

Did the children like her?

Perhaps we should have bought one for them instead of Neptune.

' There was a chorus of dissent and Alethea was glad of it because it saved her having to answer him, but her relief was short lived; Sarre laughed and then suggested that the musical box should be fetched there and then and the children be allowed to see it.

"Al can go up and get it," he said easily.

Alethea's voice came out too loudly.

She said baldly: "It's broken.

' She didn't look at the 167 children, although she was aware that their eyes were fixed on her.

"T--1 was going to tell you.