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It came near enough for one to hear the voices of the men from town, talking loudly together. It stopped at the Burnells' gate. Stanley was half-way up the path before he saw Linda. "Is that you, darling?" "Yes, Stanley." He leapt across the flower-bed and seized her in his arms. She was enfolded in that familiar, eager, strong embrace.
Then the first inhabitant appeared; it was the Burnells' cat Florrie, sitting on the gatepost, far too early as usual, looking for their milk-girl. When she saw the old sheep-dog she sprang up quickly, arched her back, drew in her tabby head, and seemed to give a little fastidious shiver. "Ugh! What a coarse, revolting creature!" said Florrie.
The sun was still full on the garden when the back door of the Burnells' shut with a bang, and a very gay figure walked down the path to the gate. It was Alice, the servant-girl, dressed for her afternoon out. She wore a white cotton dress with such large red spots on it and so many that they made you shudder, white shoes and a leghorn turned up under the brim with poppies.
The Trouts were for ever running out of things and sending across to the Burnells' at the last moment. But Jonathan only answered, "A little love, a little kindness;" and he walked by his sister-in-law's side. Linda dropped into Beryl's hammock under the manuka-tree, and Jonathan stretched himself on the grass beside her, pulled a long stalk and began chewing it. They knew each other well.
Alice gave a loud, silly little titter. She felt awkward. Her mind flew back to her own kitching. Ever so queer! She wanted to be back in it again. A strange company assembled in the Burnells' washhouse after tea. Round the table there sat a bull, a rooster, a donkey that kept forgetting it was a donkey, a sheep and a bee.
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