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to us.”
    A reply was received that Dr. Kennedy would be prepared to receive them on the following Wednesday; and on that day they set off.
    Woodleigh Bolton was a straggling village set along the side of a hill. Galls Hill was the highest house just at the top of the rise, with a view over Woodleigh Camp and the moors towards the sea.
    â€œRather a bleak spot,” said Gwenda shivering.
    The house itself was bleak and obviously Dr. Kennedy scorned such modern innovations as central heating. The woman who opened the door was dark and rather forbidding. She led them across the rather bare hall, and into a study where Dr. Kennedy rose to receive them. It was a long, rather high room, lined with well-filled bookshelves.
    Dr. Kennedy was a grey-haired elderly man with shrewd eyes under tufted brows. His gaze went sharply from one to the other of them.
    â€œMr. and Mrs. Reed? Sit here, Mrs. Reed, it’s probably the most comfortable chair. Now, what’s all this about?”
    Giles went fluently into their prearranged story.
    He and his wife had been recently married in New Zealand. They had come to England, where his wife had lived for a short time as a child, and she was trying to trace old family friends and connections.
    Dr. Kennedy remained stiff and unbending. He was polite but obviously irritated by Colonial insistence on sentimental family ties.
    â€œAnd you think my sister—my half-sister—and possibly myself—are connections of yours?” he asked Gwenda, civilly, but with slight hostility.
    â€œShe was my stepmother,” said Gwenda. “My father’s second wife. I can’t really remember her properly, of course. I was so small. My maiden name was Halliday.”
    He stared at her—and then suddenly a smile illuminated his face. He became a different person, no longer aloof.
    â€œGood Lord,” he said. “Don’t tell me that you’re Gwennie!”
    Gwenda nodded eagerly. The pet name, long forgotten, sounded in her ears with reassuring familiarity.
    â€œYes,” she said. “I’m Gwennie.”
    â€œGod bless my soul. Grown-up and married. How time flies! It must be—what—fifteen years—no, of course, much longer than that. You don’t remember me, I suppose?”
    Gwenda shook her head.
    â€œI don’t even remember my father. I mean, it’s all a vague kind of blur.”
    â€œOf course—Halliday’s first wife came from New Zealand—I remember his telling me so. A fine country, I should think.”
    â€œIt’s the loveliest country in the world—but I’m quite fond of England, too.”
    â€œOn a visit—or settling down here?” He rang the bell. “We must have tea.”
    When the tall woman came, he said, “Tea, please—and—er—hot buttered toast, or—or cake, or something.”
    The respectable housekeeper looked venomous, but said, “Yes, sir,” and went out.
    â€œI don’t usually go in for tea,” said Dr. Kennedy vaguely. “But we must celebrate.”
    â€œIt’s very nice of you,” said Gwenda. “No, we’re not on a visit. We’ve bought a house.” She paused and added, “Hillside.”
    Dr. Kennedy said vaguely, “Oh yes. In Dillmouth. You wrote from there.”
    â€œIt’s the most extraordinary coincidence,” said Gwenda. “Isn’t it, Giles?”
    â€œI should say so,” said Giles. “Really quite staggering.”
    â€œIt was for sale, you see,” said Gwenda, and added in face of Dr. Kennedy’s apparent non-comprehension, “It’s the same house where we used to live long ago.”
    Dr. Kennedy frowned. “Hillside? But surely—Oh yes, I did hear they’d changed the name. Used to be St. Something or other—if I’m thinking of the right house—on the Leahampton road, coming down into the town, on the right-hand