"Course I do," enthusiastically.
Helen put the child in the carriage, and then stepped in beside her.
"Is my valise in, Jean?"
"Yes, dear. Good-by, and have a good time."
"I will," replied Helen, as Nathalie took her place on the front seat and gathered up the reins. "Remember, Jean, you have the entire responsibility of the children, and do not let Gladys out of your sight."
Jean nodded smilingly, and stood on the steps and watched the carriage until a turn in the road bid it from view.
Then, as she slowly made her way into the house, the light died out of her face, and involuntarily she sighed.
"I wish I did not distrust Lillian Stuart as I do," she thought. "It is so unfounded—as yet."
CHAPTER IX.
A FLYING MACHINE AND WHAT CAME OF IT.
Early that same afternoon Eleanor and Nan dropped in at the manor and suggested a game of tennis. The Lawrences acquiesced, and after a search for balls and rackets they wandered down to the courts. Jean stopped behind for a moment to find the children and tell them to follow her, for nurse had begged a holiday and had gone off for the afternoon. The sun's hot rays beat down upon the unshaded courts, discouraging even Nan's enthusiasm; so, after one set played with flagging energy, they threw down their rackets and retired to a pretty little summerhouse, just at the foot of the terrace. By and by, when they were cool again, Eleanor arose and suggested that they should stroll down toward the station to meet Cliff and Dick, who were coming up early. Jean alone demurred. It was sweet and peaceful within the shelter of the little summerhouse, and the prospect of a long hot walk along the dusty road was not tempting. Most opportunely she remembered Helen's injunction in regard to the children, and pleading this excuse she sent the others off with a half-promise that she might join them at the inn later, if nurse should get home in good season.