"I should enjoy that."

"It would be a great joy to welcome you. Just now ..." He hesitated and looked at her ruefully. "There are troubles," he added. "There often are."

"It's a troublesome part of the world, I suppose," she said.

"You could call it that. But it is far away, eh, and we are here on this delightful afternoon."

He turned his eyes on me, but I had the impression that he found it hard to tear them away from Francine.

"You must have many adventures," said Francine.

"None," he assured her, "as pleasant as this one is proving to be."

Francine was talking a good deal. She seemed to be intoxicated with the pleasant afternoon. She was determined to enjoy herself in a fever of excitement because she was so dreading what her birthday party would bring forth. Although she swore she would never accept marriage with Cousin Arthur, she was practical enough to wonder what we would do when our grandfather became incensed by her refusal—or, worse still, would not accept it. So for this brief interlude she was determined to enjoy herself. She likes Rudolph, I thought. She likes him as much as he likes her. I could see that she was trying to prolong the afternoon, but eventually and most reluctantly she rose and said we must

"So soon?" he asked.

But it was not soon. We had been talking for an hour and a half.

"There is a strict rule in our house," she said. I thought it was rather indiscreet of her to talk about our home in the manner she did.

He said he would walk back with us, but that threw Francine into such a panic that he desisted. But he did walk with us to the gate and there, bowing low, kissed our hands. I noticed that he held Francine's longer than he did mine.

We broke away and started to run across the field to the Manor.

"What an adventure!" said Francine. "I don't think I ever had an adventure like that."

The invitation came through Hans to Daisy who brought it to Francine. It was from the Grafin and she asked Francine to visit her that day at three o'clock, as she had a request to make of her. I was not mentioned in the invitation so Francine went alone. I was all agog to hear what had happened and was waiting for her in the field near the cottages.

When she came away about an hour later she looked flushed and more excited than I had seen her for a long time.

"Did you see him?" I asked. "This—er—Rudolph?"

She shook her head. She looked bemused. Had she found another admirer? I wondered.

"It's so exciting," she said. "I saw the Grafin. What do you think? She has asked me to the ball."

"To a ball! What do you mean?"

"That they are to have a ball and I am invited. It's as simple as that."

"It doesn't sound in the least simple to me. Will grandfather agree? And you'll need a ball dress."

"I know. I thought of all that. But I said I'd go."

"In blue serge or perhaps your best poplin?"

"Don't be defeatist. I'll have a new dress somehow."

"Somehow is the word."

"What's the matter with you, Pippa? Are you jealous?"

"Never!" I cried. "I want you to go to the dance with Rudolph, but I can't see how you're going to manage it, that's all."

"Pippa," she said—and I have never seen a stronger purpose in anyone's face than I saw in Francine's at that moment—"I am going."

All the way back to the house and halfway through the night we discussed it. Rudolph had not been there. She had had tea with the Grafin who had told her that there was to be this ball and she would be delighted if Francine would attend. She was unsure what she should do about sending an invitation. We must have conveyed very clearly what it was like living at Greystone Manor and she no doubt guessed that to have sent an invitation through our grandfather would have meant an instant refusal. Francine must come, she said. If she did not the ball would not be the same.

In an excess of euphoria and a certain unswerving belief in her powers to achieve the impossible, Francine had promised, sweeping the practical details airily aside. Something would turn up.

"A fairy godmother?" I suggested. "Who'll that be? Perhaps they have them in Bruxenstein. I can't imagine one in the Manor. Shall we be able to find a pumpkin for the carriage? I believe there are a few rats around, so we might be all right for the horses."

"Pippa, stop joking about a serious matter."

It was all rather hopeless but I was glad that temporarily her mind was taken off those impending birthday celebrations.

When we visited our grandmother the next day, with that acute sensibility of hers she immediately realized that something had happened. She knew that Francine had been tense and uneasy because she feared she was about to be forced into marriage with Cousin Arthur, and it was not long before the whole story was drawn out of us. She listened entranced. "So the old Punch Room has become the Weinzimmer. I like the sound of the Grafin and the charming Rudolph." Our grandmother was a very romantic lady and it must have been a terrible tragedy to be married to a man like our grandfather. Miraculously the experience had not soured her; it had made her more gentle and tolerant.

She said, "Francine must go the ball." I listened in amazement. Our grandmother had an answer to everything. The dress? Wait a moment. She believed there was some material in one of her chests. Once she had dreamed she would celebrate the birth of her second child. No, not Grace ... the one who had been stillborn. She had bought at the time some beautiful blue silk chiffon embroidered with stars in silver thread. "It was the most beautiful material I ever saw," she said. "But when I lost the child I couldn't bear to look at it. I folded it up and put it away. If the silver stars haven't tarnished ... We'll ask Agnes to find it."

Agnes was delighted to see her mistress so happy. She once whispered to me that she had changed since we came. "She was a little like your sister, I imagine, when she was young ... but there's more freedom now." Not much more, I thought. It was gratifying that Agnes was an ally, for we needed allies.

We found the material. Francine cried out in delight when she saw it. The stars were as bright as they had been on the day when our grandmother had bought it.

"Take it," she said, smiling as though she could see it clearly, and I was sure she could in her mind. "Go to Jenny and get her working at once. She'll do it well. She makes ball dresses for girls' coming out now and then."

Excitedly we called on Jenny. Daisy came with us, for she considered she was involved in the adventure as it had been through her that we had first come to the Grange and set everything in motion. She herself was deep in an emotional affair of her own. Tom of the stables had discovered her friendship with Hans and, as she said, he was "hopping mad" and threatening all sorts of reprisals. Life was certainly exciting for these two heroines of romance—and I was content to be a looker-on.

Daisy had it from Hans that the Grafin had been more or less commanded to invite Francine because of the Baron, who was very important. He was in fact the most important of them all. Hans knew why but he wasn't telling even Daisy. "He will... given time," said Daisy confidently. She clearly enjoyed being drawn into this vortex of intrigue and gave us scraps of information about the household. The Grafin, it seemed, was very ambitious and was already putting out feelers for important marriages for her children. Hans said that back in Bruxenstein she never lost an opportunity.

Jenny Brakes was a little astonished when she saw the material and heard that she was to make it into a ball gown.

"For your birthday party, Miss Francine?" she asked. "Miss Grace has already told me I was to go up to the house. She's got a nice piece of taffeta she tells me for your party dress. It's going to be a very special occasion."

"No," said Francine. "This is to be a very special dress."

"Made in secret," added Daisy.

Jenny looked frightened.

"Come on," said Daisy. "Who's to know?"

"Really ... I don't understand, Miss Francine... ."

"It's simple," Francine explained. "I want a ball gown made quickly, and you just do not mention that you are making it for me."

"But you're having the taffeta—"

"I'm having this too," said Francine.

Poor Jenny Brakes! I knew how she was feeling. She greatly feared to offend my grandfather. She lived in one of his cottages and if he knew that she was making a ball gown for his granddaughter he would be very angry indeed; and when he was angry he was a man to show no mercy. It was I who came up with the solution. Jenny need not know at all that it was in secret. The gown was to be made for Francine and as it was needed in a hurry it was simpler for Jenny to make it in her own cottage, as she sometimes did. If we were discovered, Jenny could be proved to be entirely innocent of any intrigue.

At last she agreed and sketched out a design right away. What fun we had making our suggestions! It must be daring; it must be simple; it must be cut to show Francine's swanlike neck. It must accentuate her tiny waist. It must have a billowing skirt.

The excitement was so intense that I thought Francine would betray it. I believe Aunt Grace knew something was in the air but she was too immersed in her own life at the moment, for since Charles Daventry had carried Francine into the house, I believed she was visiting him in secret.

We made a great plan of action. On the night of the ball Francine would slip out of the house and go to the Emms' cottage. Daisy's mother was a willing conspirator, so there could be no blame attached to Jenny. Mrs. Emms would keep the dress in her cottage for Francine to change into. Then she could slip across the lawn to the Grange. Like her daughter, Mrs. Emms was fond of adventure. If she were discovered and my grandfather's wrath was aroused, she would take the consequences. "He would never turn us out," she said. "Not the Emmses. We've been in this cottage too long and my Jim's too useful a man."

So it was all settled.

Daisy reported that this was going to be the most magnificent of all the balls they had had at the Grange. It was in honour of a very important personage—presumably Francine's admirer.  "The preparations ..." cried Daisy.

"All the food ... all the flowers and things. It'll be royal, that's what it'll be. I reckon they couldn't do better at Buckingham Palace or that Sandringham where the Prince of Wales enjoys himself so much."

The great day came and we could scarcely contain our excitement. Somehow the hours passed. We were very absentminded at our lessons and Miss Elton remarked on our inattention. I think she knew something was afoot and as the whole household was aware that Francine was destined to marry Cousin Arthur, I was sure that if they knew what it was they would have done their best to shield her.

I went with Francine to the Emms' cottage and there, with Daisy, I helped to dress her. Several little Emmses looked on in wonder, and when she was ready she looked like a fairy princess. Excitement enhanced her beauty and there could not have been a colour which suited her better than the blue silver-spattered chiffon. Of course she needed silver shoes and had only her black satin ones, but they scarcely showed. She looked perfect, I told her.

The arrangement was that I should be watching at our window and when she came home I would creep down and let her in. She would have been to the Emmses first and changed into her day clothes, leaving the gown at the Emms' cottage to be brought back next day by Daisy.

"Such an operation needs careful planning," I had pointed out. "Every detail has to be thought of."

"Philippa is our general," cried Francine with a giggle. "I must obey her commands."

So as everything had been so precisely arranged, I felt that only bad luck could upset our plans. After watching— from a safe distance—Francine enter the Grange with the other guests, I went back to the Manor. I sat at my window, looking out over the lawns. In the distance I could see the towers of the Grange and the lights; I could even hear the faint strains of music. I could see the church, too, and the grey tombstones and I thought of poor Aunt Grace and Charles Daventry who had lacked the courage to make their own lives. Francine would never lack that courage.

"God's in his heaven," I thought, looking up at that black velvet sky, at the glittering stars and the moon that was almost full. What a beautiful sight! I prayed then for Francine's happiness, for a miracle to save her from Cousin Arthur. I remembered the old Spanish proverb my father referred to once. It was something like, "Take what you want," said God. "Take it and pay for it,"