Trust and Market Institutions in Africa:

Exploring the Role of Trust-Building in

African Entrepreneurship Kingsley Obi
Omeihe
Visit to download the full and correct content document:
https://ebookmass.com/product/trust-and-market-institutions-in-africa-exploring-the-ro
le-of-trust-building-in-african-entrepreneurship-kingsley-obi-omeihe/
More products digital (pdf, epub, mobi) instant
download maybe you interests ...

Data Privacy And Trust In Cloud Computing: Building

Trust In The Cloud Through Assurance And Accountability
1st Edition Edition Theo Lynn

https://ebookmass.com/product/data-privacy-and-trust-in-cloud-
computing-building-trust-in-the-cloud-through-assurance-and-
accountability-1st-edition-edition-theo-lynn/

The Decency Code: The Leader's Path to Building

Integrity and Trust Steve Harrison

https://ebookmass.com/product/the-decency-code-the-leaders-path-
to-building-integrity-and-trust-steve-harrison/

In Praise of Skepticism: Trust but Verify Pippa Norris

https://ebookmass.com/product/in-praise-of-skepticism-trust-but-
verify-pippa-norris/

Trust Hernan Diaz

https://ebookmass.com/product/trust-hernan-diaz/
Trust Hernán Diaz

https://ebookmass.com/product/trust-hernan-diaz-2/

Rescuing Science: Restoring Trust In an Age of Doubt

Sutter

https://ebookmass.com/product/rescuing-science-restoring-trust-
in-an-age-of-doubt-sutter/

In Consciousness we Trust: The Cognitive Neuroscience

of Subjective Experience Hakwan Lau

https://ebookmass.com/product/in-consciousness-we-trust-the-
cognitive-neuroscience-of-subjective-experience-hakwan-lau/

Social Media and Digital Dissidence in Zimbabwe Trust

Matsilele

https://ebookmass.com/product/social-media-and-digital-
dissidence-in-zimbabwe-trust-matsilele/

The Science of Trust: Emotional Attunement for Couples

https://ebookmass.com/product/the-science-of-trust-emotional-
attunement-for-couples/
PALGRAVE STUDIES OF
ENTREPRENEURSHIP IN AFRICA

Trust and Market

Institutions in Africa
Exploring the Role of Trust-Building in
African Entrepreneurship
Kingsley Obi Omeihe
Palgrave Studies of Entrepreneurship in Africa

Series Editors
Kevin Ibeh
Department of Management
Birkbeck, University of London
London, UK

Sonny Nwankwo
Office of the Academy Provost
Nigerian Defence Academy
Kaduna, Nigeria

Tigineh Mersha
Department of Management and International Business
University of Baltimore
Baltimore, MD, USA

Ven Sriram
Department of Marketing and Entrepreneur
University of Baltimore
Baltimore, MD, USA
The Palgrave Studies of Entrepreneurship in Africa series offers an urgently
needed platform to document, promote and showcase entrepreneurship
in Africa and create a unique home for top quality, cutting-edge work on
a broad range of themes and perspectives.
Focusing on successful African firms, small and medium sized enter-
prises as well as multinational corporations, this series will cover new and
ground-breaking areas including innovation, technology and digital
entrepreneurship, green practices, sustainability, and their cultural and
social implications for Africa. This series is positioned to eminently cap-
ture and energize the monumental changes currently taking place in
Africa, well beyond the pervasive informal sector. It will also respond to
the great thirst amongst students, researchers, policy and third sector
practitioners for relevant knowledge and nuanced insights on how to fur-
ther promote and institutionalize entrepreneurship, and optimize its ben-
efits across the continent. The series will offer an important platform for
interrogating the appropriateness and limits of Western management
practices in Africa, examining new approaches to researching the fast-­
changing continent.
A diverse set of established experts and emerging scholars based in
Africa and around the world will contribute to this series. Projects will
also originate from entrepreneurship-themed tracks and Special Interest
Groups at major Africa-focused conferences, notably the International
Academy of African Business and Development, the Academy of
Management Africa, and the Academy of International Business African
Chapter. The foregoing breadth and diversity of themes, target authors
and manuscript sources will produce a richly distinctive series.
All submissions are single blind peer reviewed. For more information
on Palgrave Macmillan’s peer review policy please see this website: https://
www.palgrave.com/gp/book-authors/your-career/early-career-researcher-­
hub/peer-review-process.
For information on how to submit a book proposal for inclusion in
this series please contact Liz Barlow: [email protected]. For fur-
ther information on the general book proposal process please visit this
website: https://www.palgrave.com/gp/book-authors/publishing-guide-
lines/submit-a-proposal.
 Kingsley Obi Omeihe

Trust and Market

Institutions in Africa
Exploring the Role of Trust-Building
in African Entrepreneurship
Kingsley Obi Omeihe
Centre for African Research on Enterprise and Economic Development
University of the West of Scotland
Paisley, UK

ISSN 2662-1169     ISSN 2662-1177 (electronic)

Palgrave Studies of Entrepreneurship in Africa
ISBN 978-3-031-06215-5    ISBN 978-3-031-06216-2 (eBook)
https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-031-06216-2

© The Editor(s) (if applicable) and The Author(s), under exclusive licence to Springer Nature
Switzerland AG 2023
This work is subject to copyright. All rights are solely and exclusively licensed by the Publisher, whether
the whole or part of the material is concerned, specifically the rights of translation, reprinting, reuse
of illustrations, recitation, broadcasting, reproduction on microfilms or in any other physical way, and
transmission or information storage and retrieval, electronic adaptation, computer software, or by similar
or dissimilar methodology now known or hereafter developed.
The use of general descriptive names, registered names, trademarks, service marks, etc. in this publication
does not imply, even in the absence of a specific statement, that such names are exempt from the relevant
protective laws and regulations and therefore free for general use.
The publisher, the authors, and the editors are safe to assume that the advice and information in this book
are believed to be true and accurate at the date of publication. Neither the publisher nor the authors or
the editors give a warranty, expressed or implied, with respect to the material contained herein or for any
errors or omissions that may have been made. The publisher remains neutral with regard to jurisdictional
claims in published maps and institutional affiliations.

This Palgrave Macmillan imprint is published by the registered company Springer Nature Switzerland AG.
The registered company address is: Gewerbestrasse 11, 6330 Cham, Switzerland
 Foreword

The currency of trust is an enduring transactional tool, as well as a foun-

dational ingredient on which micro- and macro-economic relationships
are built. As an integral component of communalism, though not
restricted to African modalities of living, trust remains an ethical para-
digm for everyday negotiations. The theoretical interventions of trust
building by Omeihe situate a hitherto undervalued concept for driving
African entrepreneurship. As documented, the fact that African entrepre-
neurs trust informal institutions more is not far-fetched, since the con-
textual legitimacy of trust provides credible foundations for network
building. Together, the narratives of African entrepreneurial networks
consolidate conceptualisations of trust as universal and context-specific.
This assumes that ethical transactional principles exist within contexts
and timeframes, dating back to pre-colonial trade activities.
Even if all these points are conceded, there is still a powerful case for
taking trust through an Africanist lens seriously. Conceptualisations of
trust across Africa unveil themes of dependability, faith, believe, confi-
dence, reliability and positive expectations. The argument derived from
this evidence showcases the sanctity of protecting relationships, and thus
serves as a basis for doing business. It is no wonder that entrepreneurial
relationships in Africa have developed primacy over and above formal
contractual exchanges.

v
vi Foreword

With the increasing influence of globalisation across post colonies,

imperfect mechanisms of dysfunctional judicial systems have become
needlessly bureaucratic, clouded by politics and influenced by the rich.
The continued neglect of formal institutions has both weakened conflict
resolution and distanced entrepreneurs from approaching legal systems.
This has evolved to deny economic developmental initiatives and entre-
preneurial growth at the very foundational layers of society. Nevertheless,
African entrepreneurs now have an almost unprecedented opportunity to
engage with indigenous market institutions that provide relational strate-
gies such as verbal explanations, apologies and mediation as alternatives
for weak formal institutions.
The claim made here is that the scope of informal institutions is wid-
ened to incorporate what is known as ‘regulatory’ in the repair of trust
violation within Africa. The emphasis on a range of multiple approaches
encapsulates both the ‘carrot and stick’ approaches of threats and perhaps
sanctions on occasions where the negotiations breakdown due to
negligence.
Evidently, the need for managing the extant challenges of distrust can-
not be overemphasised. With basic shifts in the models of business trans-
actions as consolidated by the fourth industrial revolution, African
entrepreneurs must re-evaluate the fundamentals of entrepreneurship by
using indigenous paradigms to drive both local and foreign transactions.
For example, a major criticism in the embrace of non-state digital curren-
cies has been the lack of trust in formalised banking arrangements.
Societies which are poorest in Africa today are those with underdeveloped
formal institutions.
In general, Omeihe has advanced a vast thesis that invites a far more
global readership. The key assumption made by him is that in the absence
of more developed formal institutions, indigenous African institutions
have become the foundation of trust building. Beyond this, trust build-
ing in economic transactions should provide a sustainable direction for
policy makers. It is an agenda which demands developing African institu-
tions, rather than stifling their functions through restrictive regulations.
This should force African governments to leverage the strengths of such
 Foreword vii

institutions in accelerating economic development. On this occasion,

Omeihe has played his part in contributing to African policy through a
book that is informed by evidence. And in this way will help enhance a
range of indigenous institutions serving the bottom billion people in
Africa. It now matters for policy makers to prove us wrong.

Chair, West African Transitional Justice Philip A. Ọláyọkù

Centre (WATJ Centre); Director Centre
for Research on African Digital Policy
and Innovations (CRADPI)
 Preface

To date, numerous texts and case studies have attempted to give guidance
to researchers about trust and how it can be researched. While much has
been written about the construct from a western perspective, many of the
books are often silent about the contextual interpretations and how trust
differs from what we already know. Indeed, much mystery surrounds the
way in which scholars engage with trust research. And many of the
answers which require exploring still receive implicit answers. Perhaps, it
may be old-fashioned to study ‘trust and African markets’. However, it is
certain that modern studies of trust and African nexuses should be based
on richer understandings than we now possess.
Accordingly, this book represents my attempt to address this void. A
book, as informed by the publisher, should ideally contribute and extend
discussions, probe conventional wisdom and should be a foundation
upon which future studies can build on. My goal, then, is to interpret
and capture what I believe are core original insights to understanding the
elusive concept of trust. The overriding emphasis of the book is on the
emergence of trust in a range of indigenous institutional forms operating
as alternatives to weak formal institutions. The idea is to contribute
insights into how African entrepreneurs cope with institutional deficiency.
In writing this book, I have reflected on and attempted to capture
my understanding of trust in a way that connects with potential

ix
x Preface

readers. At times, the task of writing seemed an endless one. Such a task
involves a process of modification, inspired by new evidence which has
come to light in the course of the last six years and by new insights derived
from my own research over this period. However, I have benefitted from
conversations with many people on the contemporary issues of trust,
which have greatly deepened my understanding of the subject. I am
grateful to several reviewers for their comments and suggestions. They
played such an active role in the development of the chapters. I learned a
great deal from their suggestions and this has enabled me to gain addi-
tional insights. I have accommodated many of their recommendations
where I could but not all.
A list of acknowledgements would be incomplete, and you will agree
that this will be unfair to anyone who has been omitted. As such, I have
left out capturing the names of several incredible people who have sup-
ported me on this journey. I owe them much.
But permit me to acknowledge my major debt to my wife ‘Eunice’, my
kids ‘Obi’ and ‘Grace’, and my parents ‘Katy’ and ‘High Chief ’. They
have helped me persevere and without them, this dream would not have
been realised. My gratitude goes to Dr Isaac O. Amoako, Coventry
University, who deserves special recognition for his contribution, not
only to this research but for giving me the opportunity to become a stu-
dent of trust. Through him, I gained an appreciation of trust. His reser-
voir of knowledge is impressive. His belief in my potential was unlimited
and his mentorship skills were superior. I am also in special debt to Dr
Veronika Gustafsson, Uppsala University, and Dr Saud Khan, Victoria
University of Wellington. Together their superlative guidance has been
integral to my development.
While this may sound straightforward, I have made it easier for readers
unfamiliar with the trust to understand and locate themselves in the real
world of local actors. In this circumstance, it is my hope that this book
with all its strengths and flaws will contribute to a distillation of knowl-
edge of the African context. I am also most appreciative of the forbear-
ance I have received from the team at Palgrave Macmillan.
 Preface xi

Finally, to the great people of Africa. I hope that the dedication of the
book indicates in my own way my great belief, respect and affection. If
this book has enough merit and value, then it is offered as my gift to
them. As always, any errors or omissions are mine.

Aberdeen, Scotland K. O. Omeihe

01 May, 2022
Praise for Trust and Market Institutions in Africa

“In this book Omeihe concerns himself with contextual narratives that have
been largely neglected. The book covers key territories that a very few have
explored. Affording many insights into the interplay of African entrepreneurs
and cultural institutions.”
—Olatunde Akande, CBCA, Credit Access Wealth, West Africa

“It is no exaggeration to suggest that Kingsley Omeihe unveils a new chapter in

African entrepreneurship. As it stands, the book is a rich study of trust across
African actors. Scholars, practitioners and policy makers should therefore give it
a very warm welcome. It is a valuable resource.”
—Otunba Lekan Osifeso, Madasa and Olotu-Olowa of Ijebu Land

“Whether it is to understand the role of trust, networks or institutions, scholars

need to capture the reflexivity of their experience. In this exciting volume,
Omeihe has explored a phenomenon in simple and practical language. It is a
major contribution to entrepreneurship and economic sociology that breaks
new grounds. A must read!”
—Julie Osakwe, PhD, School of Media and Creative Industries,
University of the West of Scotland
 Contents

1 An
 Overview of Trust, Institutions and African
Entrepreneurial Networks  1
1.1 Introduction   1
1.2 Overview of African Entrepreneurship and Trust   4
1.3 Motivation   7
1.4 Context, Entrepreneurial Networks and Trust   8
1.5 Uncovering Embeddedness and Institutional Logics  10
1.6 Methodological Approach  11
1.7 Case Study: The Aspect of Reflexivity 13
1.8 The Structure of the Book  18
References 19

2 Unravelling
 the Concepts of Institutions and
Entrepreneurial Networks 25
2.1 Introduction  25
2.2 The Topicality of Institutions  28
2.3 Institutions and Entrepreneurship  31
2.4 Culture and Informal Institutions  33
2.5 Norms and Entrepreneurship  37
2.6 Social Networks and Entrepreneurship  39
2.7 Social Networks and Entrepreneurship in Africa  41

xv
xvi Contents

2.8 Entrepreneurship and Small Business  42

Expanding the Concept of Entrepreneurship   44
SME Networks and Entrepreneurship in Africa   46
Institutions and African Entrepreneurship   48
2.9 Conclusions  49
References 51

3 Exploring
 the Nature of Trust in Inter-­organisational
Relationships 61
3.1 Introduction  61
3.2 What Is Trust? Exploring the Nature of Trust 63
3.3 Case Study: The Various Interpretations of Trust 65
3.4 Unravelling Trust and Context  66
3.5 Trust and Transaction Costs Economics  68
Expanding on Trust and Opportunism   69
3.6 Types of Trust  70
Personal Trust  71
Institutional Trust  72
Inter-organisational Trust  73
3.7 Distrust  76
3.8 Trust Repair  77
3.9 Conclusion  79
References 80

4 Institutions
 Shaping Trust in African Entrepreneurship 87
4.1 Introduction  87
4.2 Colonial Era and West African Entrepreneurship  88
4.3 Indigenous Social and Economic Structures (1860–1900)  89
4.4 Socio-cultural Factors and African Entrepreneurship  92
4.5 Case Study: West African Entrepreneurial Networks 93
4.6 Weak Formal Institutions in West Africa  94
4.7 Indigenous African Institutions  95
Family and Kinship   96
4.8 Conclusion  97
References 98
 Contents xvii

5 Managing
 Trust in African Entrepreneurship101
5.1 Introduction 101
5.2 Personal Trust in Africa 102
Trust Based on Working Relationships  103
Trust Based on Transites or Central Men  105
5.3 Institutional Trust in Africa 107
Trade Associations as Indigenous Alternative Institutions  107
Cultural Norms of Family/Kinship, Ethnicity and
Religion 112
5.4 Case Study: The Functions of African Trade Associations115
5.5 Conclusion 115
References118

6 The
 Dynamics of Trustworthiness, Distrust and Repair
in African Entrepreneurship121
6.1 Introduction 121
6.2 Distrust in African Entrepreneurship 123
6.3 Distrust Based on Family and Religious Norms 125
6.4 Trust Repair in African Entrepreneurship 126
Verbal Explanations in African Entrepreneurship  127
Apologies in African Entrepreneurship  128
Use of Intermediaries in African Entrepreneurship  129
The Use of Threats  130
6.5 Case Study: Verbal Explanations as a Trust Repair Tactic131
6.6 Conclusion 132
References135

7 Core
 Insights, Reconnecting Trust Expectations in African
Entrepreneurship139
7.1 Introduction 139
Institutions that Influence Entrepreneurship in Africa  140
Types of Trust Required for Entrepreneurial
Relationships 142
Trustworthiness in African Entrepreneurship  143
xviii Contents

Distrust in African Entrepreneurship  144

Trust Repair in African Entrepreneurship  145
7.2 A Framework for Understanding Trust in African
Entrepreneurship145
7.3 Theoretical Contributions 147
7.4 Practical Implications 151
7.5 Policy Implications 152
References155

I ndex159
 About the Author

Kingsley Obi Omeihe is an Associate Professor of Marketing and Small

Business at the University of Aberdeen. He is the President of the
Academy for African Studies and Chair of African Studies at the British
Academy of Management (BAM). He also serves as Chair of the
Entrepreneurship in Minority Groups at the Institute for Small Business
and Entrepreneurship (ISBE) and Senior Economic Advisor at the Marcel
House. His research interest in economic sociology examines the role of
networks and norms in the emergence of economic institutions. This
includes examining the reflexive basis of reputation in multiplex net-
works, and identifying the sources of trust in low-trust societies and their
sources of cooperation.

xix
 List of Figures

Fig. 2.1 Network and social structures. (Source: Own research) 41

Fig. 3.1 Trust and context67
Fig. 3.2 Three levels of trust75
Fig. 5.1 Framework for managing trust in African entrepreneurship 117
Fig. 6.1 Trustworthiness, distrust and trust repair in African
entrepreneurship134
Fig. 7.1 Framework for understanding trust in African
entrepreneurship148

xxi
 List of Tables

Table 5.1 Examples and functions of African trade associations 109

Table 5.2 Summary of trust types and trust development 114
Table 6.1 Incidents of distrust124
Table 6.2 Tactics and approaches 127

xxiii
 1
An Overview of Trust, Institutions
and African Entrepreneurial Networks

1.1 Introduction
To date, the increased interest in entrepreneurship has continued to gain
explosive growth. The focus has given rise to the understanding of entre-
preneurial behaviour in contexts where formalised institutions such as
courts and legal framework are deficient. Studies over the past decades
reveal a paucity of literature focused on Africa, as most studies have par-
ticularly centred on entrepreneurs operating in more mature economies
(Child and Rodrigues 2007; Stoian et al. 2016; Welter and Baker 2021).
Instead, applied research has continued to glide over Africa’s socio-­
economic context, thus leading to incorrect assumptions and macro-­
theorisations. Further along these lines, an imbalance exists that prioritises
the role of networks in mature economies in comparison to those operat-
ing within Africa. This is despite the fact that African entrepreneurial
networks account for a huge share of the business across the continent
(Amoako and Lyon 2014; Omeihe 2019).
While prior studies have examined the value of network relationships
in African entrepreneurship (Jenssen and Kristiansen 2004; Overa 2006;
Amoako 2019), this book attempts to seek comprehensive coverage of
indigenous market institutions operating in parallel to deficient formal
institutions. Fuelled by a dearth of resources and the existence of weak
formal institutions prevalent in developing market economies, Africa was

© The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2023 1

K. O. Omeihe, Trust and Market Institutions in Africa, Palgrave Studies of
Entrepreneurship in Africa, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-031-06216-2_1
Another random document with
no related content on Scribd:
The house was very still. A tiny creak startled her; and then a soft footfall.

"Bee!"—she said instantly.

A slight figure bent over her in the darkness, and a smothered voice murmured—

"I'm come—to say—good-night."

Amy held her in a long close clasp. Neither could speak at first; and one tiny sob might be
heard from Bee.

"And you forgive me, my darling!"

"I—had to! I—couldn't say my prayers. I couldn't say—Forgive me—as—"

Bee broke down.

CHAPTER XXII
"COULDN'T BE TIED!"

"I REALLY did think that dear boy had more sense," quoth Mrs. Miles, as her busy fingers
arranged rows of tucks in a small frock. Two little maidens of seven and eight brightened
the Vicarage home, and she made all their clothes herself.

"Ivor! What has he done?"

"He has done nothing. It's what he is going to do."

"Where is he to-night?"

"Gone to dine at Claughton. I thought you knew. That is not the point! Imagine his taking
to Magda, more than to Bee Major!"

"You think he has?"

"Quite sure. When he came back from his call yesterday, he had nothing to say, except
what a nice bright girl Magda was. And so she is; and I like her. But you can no more
compare her with Beatrice Major than—" Mrs. Miles paused for a simile, as she measured
the width of her tucks, and failed to find one. "Not that Magda isn't attractive in her own
way. But I wish one could bring her to a point. She is all loose ends, and vague dreams,
and general discontent. Nothing that one suggests in the way of work seems to be the
right thing. I suppose girls are often like that when they first get away from school; but it
is time she should settle to something."

"I thought she had given you some help of late."

"In a casual fashion—when nothing that she likes better happens to turn up."
"That seems to be the way with a good many of the Burwood ladies—older as well as
younger."

"I've tried my best to rouse them; and some respond all right. But with most of the girls, it
is—'Oh, I can't be tied!' Those Hodgson girls, for instance—five of them, strong clever
young people, and well-educated. And they're just running to seed. They do absolutely
nothing for any human being except themselves. A house-full of servants—no help wanted
there; abundance of money; and life one endless round of pleasure! Riding, hunting,
motoring, golfing, dancing, paying visits, travelling—nothing but amusement! I tackled
them one day in good earnest, and asked if one wouldn't help in the Sunday-school, and
another in the night-school, and another in the shoe-club, and so on. And one and all
made the same reply. Oh dear, no, they couldn't be tied! They liked to be free. Which
means—free to amuse themselves without stint."

"One wonders that any human being, with brains and character, can be content with such
an existence!"

"You see, dear, the point of the matter is that, if they undertake any regular weekly task,
something may turn up at that particular hour, which they don't like to miss. An invitation,
perhaps."

In the Vicar's strenuous life, work had habitually barred the way upon pleasure. But then
he had found his pleasure in his work.

"And if it does?" he said.

"Why, generally they accept the invitation, and toss up the work. I tried to get the
Hodgsons to see that they might perhaps owe a duty to other folks besides themselves;
and they took it very well. They really are nice girls, you know, only so fearfully useless.
One of them actually consented to help me in the library once a week for an hour. And she
came twice. Then something turned up that she didn't wish to lose; so she sent an excuse.
Next time she sent no excuse, but simply stayed away. And then she wrote a pleasant little
note, saying she was so busy-busy! That she was afraid she must give up the library."

The Vicar had put down his pen, and was gravely attentive. He knew it all, of course—
probably better than his wife; but she liked to pour forth and he liked to listen.

"There are delightful exceptions, I'll allow. Bee Major, for one. But she has been trained to
do her duty; and the others have been brought up from babyhood to think of nothing but
themselves. No real sense of duty! The Royston girls are different—except Magda.
Whatever you propose to her she doesn't want to do. She can't manage this, and she
doesn't 'like' that. Anyhow, I never came across a nicer girl than Bee Major. She would
make an ideal wife for Lance!"

"You can't choose his wife for him, my dear."

"More's the pity!" she retorted. "One could often choose for a man so much more sensibly
than he chooses for himself! However—since he likes Magda, he shall see her again. I'm
asking her and Pen and one or two others—Bee included—to spend the evening here the
day after to-morrow. You love having young folks about."

Ivor was already seeing Magda again. She and Pen had been invited to dine at Claughton
Manor; other guests being there also.

Bee was asked, and she accepted; and just at the last she had to send an excuse. Nothing
short of absolute necessity would have kept her away, since she realised what it might
mean. But that very afternoon Mrs. Major was taken with an acute attack of illness, to
which she was occasionally subject, connected with the heart, and serious enough to mean
actual danger. Bee could not leave her. Neither could she fully explain; for Mrs. Major had
an extreme dislike to being counted delicate; and Bee was under strict orders never to say
a superfluous word about her mother's health. The doctor had similar instructions; and he
alone, beside Bee and the faithful old "Nurse," knew how grave these attacks were, or
might at any time become.

Nothing could have been more unfortunate than one happening just now. Ivor, on hearing
of the excuse sent—that Mrs. Major was "very poorly," and that Bee could not be spared—
naturally drew his own conclusions. Coupled with her cold manner, it meant of course that
she wished to keep out of his way.

Partly, perhaps, in self-defence, and in consequence of the wet blanket to which he had
been treated, he turned a good deal of his attention to Magda that evening. She was again
at her best, in a prettily-made frock of thin black material, which suited the red-gold of her
hair, and the bright curiously-tinted eyes. A spray of variegated leaves, chosen and
fastened in by Merryl, gave exactly the right tone; and there was no other colouring to
compete with it. She talked well too. She and Ivor exchanged ideas, played upon words,
discussed opposite views, laughingly. He found her unformed, but clever, and on the whole
refreshingly simple. It went for little, so far; yet the fact that she was the sister of his most
intimate friend meant that they had many subjects in common.

For once Pen was in the background. Patricia showed herself, as always, daintily charming,
moving amid a circle of admirers. The personality of the admirers mattered little, so long
as they were there.

Magda was entirely occupied with Ivor—or rather, with Ivor's attentions. He managed to
draw her out, as she had not been drawn out before. He made her sparkle, and showed
her to herself in new and agreeable lights. A feeling of delighted gratification, which she
did not attempt to analyse, filled her mind in consequence.

Two days later they again met at the Vicarage; and once more Bee, though invited, was
absent, since her mother was still too ill to be left, though she might only hint at this. Ivor
had no further doubts.

"A convenient excuse!" he said bitterly to himself.

Amy, full of remorse, would gladly have taken Bee's place in the sick-room; but it was not
allowed; and, she knew Mrs. Major too well to venture on any full explanation to others.
She too had been invited, and she had to go, since Bee was bent upon her having the
pleasure. It was an evening which, for Amy, spelt the reverse of enjoyment.

Magda this time really shone. She seemed at one leap to have grown older, to have
become less school-girlish, more handsome, more taking. A slight consciousness made her
voice softer, her manner more restrained, than usual; yet with this came also a touch of
increased confidence. She found in herself a power to please, which she had not known
before; and the experience was delicious. Others watched her with a mingling of surprise
and amusement. Magda was developing, they said. She was "quite coming out."

Amy Smith's sensations included no amusement. She grew inwardly furious, more and
more furious, as the evening wore on. Bee's friend—to step in, like this, in Bee's absence!
—To try deliberately to win Ivor's love away from her! It was scandalous! Disgraceful! Amy
found it hard work to hold her wrath within bounds.
Nor did she—altogether. Early hours were the rule at the Vicarage; and by half-past ten a
general exodus took place. Wraps were donned, amid talk and laughter, in the breakfast-
room; and Amy, standing grimly apart from the rest, found Magda offering a good-bye
hand, all smiles.

"Hasn't it been a delightful evening?" Magda was saying.

Amy had always been impulsive; and she was so still, though fast leaving girlhood behind.
Without an instant's pause for thought, and not so much as remembering her promise to
Bee, she spoke words which leaped up in her mind—

"To you, I dare say! But—I couldn't—in your place! I call it—poaching!"

Then, with sudden contrition, as a flame of colour rushed into Magda's face, she knew
what she had done. "What do you mean?" came involuntarily.

"Oh, nothing!" Amy tried to laugh. "I'm talking nonsense. Good-bye."

Magda hesitated an instant; then walked off, holding her head high.

"I can't endure that Miss Smith," she said disdainfully to Pen, as they drove home. "Such a
stupid ordinary little person! I can't imagine what Bee sees to like in her."

Pen made some chilling reply. She was not pleased with Magda's prominence during the
two past evenings.

But Amy had blundered again. She had opened Magda's eyes.

CHAPTER XXIII
HERSELF OR HER FRIEND?

ONE may be walking on a most ordinary path, plucking flowers by the way, and doing—or
not doing—one's everyday duties. And suddenly temptation comes!

But in the meeting of that temptation it makes just all the difference, whether the
everyday duties have been faithfully carried out, or have been shirked. In the one case,
previous weeks have strengthened one's power to stand firm; in the other case, previous
weeks have lessened it.

Going to bed this night seemed to Magda almost impossible. There was so much to think
about. Life had assumed a new colouring.

A vague sense had dawned upon her—vague at first, but rendered more definite by Amy
Smith's unwise speech—that she had some sort of power over Lancelot Ivor. Power, it
might be, to make him like her. He seemed to enjoy her companionship. She had found
that she could interest him, could amuse him, could make him for the moment grave at
will. And Amy's remark set the seal to her discovery. If others saw the same, then it must
be real—then she could not only have fancied it.
The thought was immensely exciting.

Not that she cared markedly for Ivor himself. Magda did not know what real love meant.
But he was handsome and much liked; and her vanity was flattered. Hitherto she had
counted for little, either in her own home or among Burwood friends. His attention lifted
her upon a pedestal of importance.

He had deferred going away for another night or two; and next evening he was to dine
with them. She would see him again. She would have another chance to deepen the
impression which—perhaps—she had already made.

And—it meant—temptation!

She woke up to the fact slowly; and it was partly from what Amy had said that she
recognised the temptation as such.

Magda was not keenly observant. Thus far she had not known what Amy knew—that Bee's
heart belonged to Ivor. It was the last thing Bee would have wished her to know. Here
again Amy had betrayed Bee.

Not indeed directly. Her hasty speech at first only aroused Magda's ire, on her own
account. She disliked Amy, and she hated to be lectured and interfered with. But as she
restlessly walked her room, going over the evening in her mind, and as she thought again
of Amy's words, a new sense came into them.

"Poaching! What nonsense!" What could Miss Smith have meant? Poaching in another
person's preserve—that was the idea. What—in Bee's preserve? How ridiculous! As if Bee
had any particular rights over Mr. Ivor! And as if Bee cared!

But did Bee not care? She recalled her own announcement of Ivor's expected arrival, and
Bee's unwonted flush—then her absence, her dreaminess, her look of happiness. It all
seemed rather suspicious, even though Ivor had received no especially warm welcome
afterwards. Bee was always so funny about things—so slow to show what she felt. Perhaps
Miss Smith knew that Bee really did care—and perhaps that was why she had meddled.

If indeed it were so—what then?

Was Magda to cut in between, to steal Ivor, to destroy her friend's hopes of happiness? It
might mean all this! If left to himself, Ivor and Bee were not unlikely to draw together. But
if Magda should exert herself to win him—should use the power which she believed to be
hers—she might draw him on to like her more. And then—Bee might lose for ever the man
who perhaps had already won her heart.

"Well, I suppose, if she does care, it would be rather mean of me, on the whole,"
meditated Magda.

That ought to have settled the matter, but it did not. Magda went on reviewing pros and
cons.

If she now decisively drew back, and took no further pains to make herself attractive to
him, she might thus secure Bee's life-long joy. Ivor, no longer drawn ever so slightly in
another direction, would probably turn to Bee. Why not? They were well suited, each to the
other. And Bee had saved his life!

It was all conjecture; yet grave possibilities were involved. And whether the conjectures
were right or wrong, Magda's duty stood forth clearly.
One more of life's opportunities lay before her. An opportunity for self-denial, for self-
forgetfulness, on behalf of her friend. She had so wanted in the past to do something
great, something grand, something worth doing. Here was her chance. Self-sacrifice is the
grandest thing possible in the life of man or woman.

Nor was it of so severe a type as to be overwhelmingly difficult. She liked to be the

prominent person, winning attention and admiration. She also liked Mr. Ivor, and her vanity
was pleased. But that was all. Her heart was not affected. To draw back would mean no
question of heavy loss, still less of heartbreak.

Miss Mordaunt had spoken of "rehearsals" given beforehand of greater opportunities to

follow. What if this were one such "rehearsal"? What if the faithful carrying out of this
might mean something greater to come after? So it often is in life.

The thing looked worth doing, apart from any question of rehearsals. Magda thought she
would do it. For the sake of right, for the sake of honour, for the sake of her friend—she
would hold herself in the background. She would no longer exert herself to be delightful.
Mr. Ivor should find her dull and uninteresting. That would put things straight for Bee. She
got into bed at last, seeing her own conduct in rosy hues, self put aside, love for Bee
victorious, principle getting the upper hand over inclination.

But she forgot to look for Divine help in the carrying out of her good resolution. Some
perfunctory prayers had been said earlier—only said with wandering attention. That was
all. She had not asked to be made able to tread this path.

And when she awoke in the morning, things wore a different aspect. The road she had
marked out for herself had lost its sunshine.

A quiet background is no inviting place for a lively girl, who has just discovered her power
to please. And what if Mr. Ivor really were inclined to like her—more than others—more
even than Bee? What if he really did wish to see more of her? This thought flashed up
vividly. Was she to fling aside such a dazzling possibility, merely because she fancied that
Bee was perhaps in love? Why, it would be quite absurd!

Besides—how could she be so rude as to neglect Mr. Ivor, when he came to their house? It
would be her duty to make herself agreeable.

Not that Magda was usually bound by any obligations in this direction, when the guest
happened to be not to her liking!

Swayed to and fro by such opposite considerations, she went down to breakfast; and the
first test came soon.

"Would it be of any use to ask Beatrice Major here this evening?" Mrs. Royston inquired of
Penrose.

"I don't know, mother. Mrs. Major has been poorly, but I should think she is better now.
Magda will know."

Mrs. Royston looked at Magda, and the thin rope of her last night's resolution snapped
under the strain.

"I shouldn't think it would be much use. Bee has been nowhere yet."

"You might find out. She knows Mr. Ivor, and I dare say she would like to come, as he goes
to-morrow."
Would Bee not like it? Was her mother not well enough by this time? Magda was aware at
least that she might be able. But with the thought came a further temptation, as Pen said
—

"What has been the matter with Mrs. Major? Not influenza, I suppose? We don't want to
get that in the house."

"Something of the sort, I dare say!" Magda replied carelessly.

"Mean! Mean!" cried conscience. She knew she had done it now! Mother and elder
daughter exchanged glances, and the subject was dropped. No more chance of an
invitation for Bee! And Magda did not want her to come. She did not wish to have Bee as a
rival. But how contemptible it was! All her visions of a noble self-forgetfulness had faded
into smoke. Everything had given way before her desire to shine. And she knew that she
had not spoken the truth. She knew that Mrs. Major was subject to such recurring attacks,
though unaware of their exact nature.

When evening came, things did not go as she had hoped. In their own home Pen, as
eldest, was automatically more to the fore; and Magda, as the younger, had to submit to
being second. Mr. Royston too engrossed a large share of their chief guest. One brief ten
minutes' chat with him Magda had towards the close; only enough to make her want
more; and then Mr. Royston again took possession, and her enjoyment was cut short.

So she gained little by her disregard of Bee's interests. She had been worsted in her fight,
and had flung away another of life's opportunities; and all for nothing. She went to bed
feeling indignant and very flat.

And next day the young barrister returned to his busy life in town, without having again
met Bee.

That morning Merryl and Frip, as they walked down High Street, saw her coming out of a
shop; and she stopped at once to speak to them. Frip was still a small child; but Merryl,
since her illness, had shot up rapidly. She had grown much slighter; and her face, though
perhaps not strictly pretty, was very attractive, with its look of sunny repose.

"I hope Mrs. Major is better," she said. "We were so sorry to hear about her."

"Thanks, dear; she is getting all right again. She had quite a long drive yesterday."

Frip's shrill little pipe made itself heard before Merryl could reply.

"Why!"—came in astonished accents. "Why, mother wanted to have you to dinner last
night. And Magda said it wouldn't be any use, because you couldn't come. And she thought
it was influenza."

Bee flushed.

"No, no—Magda only fancied it might be that. She wasn't sure," explained Merryl, always
anxious to smooth things down. "She had not been to ask for a day or two, I think."

"No, she had not been. It was not influenza." Bee spoke in a mechanical voice, and her
smile was rather forced.

"I suppose—some one must have told her," ventured Merryl.

"People always say that sort of thing, don't they?" Bee remarked. Then, a little hurriedly,
she said good-bye, and went on.

"Frip, you shouldn't have told!"

"But I do wonder what made Magda say it. I should have thought she'd have wanted Bee
to come. And I'm almost sure Bee is sorry. I'm almost sure she'd have liked to come."

Merryl was quite sure, but would not say so; and the matter dropped. It did not, however,
end there. At luncheon some remark was made about Mrs. Major; and Frip, pricking up her
ears, put in a word which Merryl, at the other end, had no power to check.

"Mummie, we saw Bee to-day."

"You shouldn't call her 'Bee,' Frip. You should say 'Miss Major,'" admonished Pen.

"But she told me I might call her 'Bee;' so I may, mayn't I? And Mrs. Major is almost quite
well again; and it wasn't influenza, not one bit; and Bee could have come yesterday, if
you'd asked her, mummie. And I told her you wanted to, only Magda said it was no good.
And she looked—I don't exactly know how—only as if she was sorry."

"You do meddle, Frip!" burst out Magda.

"Frip was not very wise to repeat things. But why should you have said what was not
correct?"

"I thought it was—of course! How could I know?"

"It would have been kinder to Bee to find out."

That was all that passed; but Magda was much disturbed. It had never crossed her mind
that what she did might come to Bee's knowledge.

CHAPTER XXIV
SOMEBODY'S LOOSE ENDS

FOR a fortnight past—ever since Ivor's departure—those "loose ends" had been very
apparent. Magda had dropped into a state of hopeless inertia. There was energy enough in
her constitution, when it was aroused by a sufficient stimulus; but, like many strong and
energetic people, she could be unspeakably lazy. And that was her present condition.

Everything seemed dull and stupid, "stale, flat and unprofitable." Work went to the wall. All
that she cared to do was to sit before the fire, reading or pretending to read novels, and
going over in imagination those two delightful evenings, which had somehow demoralised
her, making nothing else in life worth consideration.

She had fallen back into her usual standing of a "nobody;" and she could not see why it
must be so. Other girls were made much of, admired, put forward. Why should it not be
the same with herself? She had found that—given certain conditions—it was in her power
to be taking. She wanted those conditions to recur. If only Mr. Ivor would pay another visit
to the Vicarage, she might again enjoy that delightful sense of power. There was nobody
now in the place for whom she cared or who cared for her.

So she made herself far from agreeable to her home-folks, for whom in reality she cared
very much; only, a cyclone was needed to reveal the fact. She forgot what she had to do,
and refused what she was asked, and replied snappishly, and resented being found fault
with, and behaved altogether like a querulous child.

"What are you doing, Magda?"

Mrs. Royston, coming into the morning-room an hour after breakfast, found her second
daughter lounging before the fire, with an open novel on her knee, and eyes fixed dreamily
on nothing.

Magda slowly stood up. "I'm—reading."

"I think, at this time of the day, you might find something better worth reading than that,"
as she glanced at the title. "I want you to leave one or two notes for me."

"Isn't Merryl going out?"

"No; not at present. What is the matter? Are you poorly?"

"No, mother."

Mrs. Royston stood looking at her. "Have you practised the last few mornings?"

"I do—sometimes."

"And you look 'sometimes' at your French and German, I suppose. It is a great pity that
you let yourself get into such idle habits."

"It's so stupid—practising for one's self alone."

"Why for yourself alone? Why not give other people pleasure. See how pleased your father
was yesterday with Merryl's playing."

"He wouldn't have cared for mine. Father hates classical music, and I hate jigs. Merryl only
strums. She hasn't a spark of music in her."

"At all events, she does her best; and you do not. You have a real gift for the piano, and
you are neglecting it."

"Whatever Merryl does is right, and whatever I do is wrong."

Mrs. Royston sighed. "You always have an answer ready, Magda. I did think at one time—
when we so nearly lost our darling Merryl—that you meant to be different. But you go on
now just the same. I should like these notes taken, please, at once—and you can ask for
the answers."

"Verbal?" Magda spoke in a hard tone, all the more because her mother's words had struck
home.

"I don't mind; only, if you bring verbal replies, do bring them correctly."

Magda took up one of the notes. "All the way to Claughton!"

"You used to think nothing of bicycling there two or three times a week. Why should you
mind it now?"

"Patricia was fond of me then."

"Patricia has a good deal to think about. I do not believe she has changed to you. Is
anything really the matter? If you are not well, tell me frankly."

"I'm quite well, mother."

"Then please take the notes."

Mrs. Royston left the room, and Magda stood staring out of the window—stirred
uncomfortably.

No doubt it was true that she had "gone on" lately, and especially in the last fortnight,
"just the same" as before Merryl's illness. She had lost sight of her remorse and her
resolutions, and had again been wrapped up in her own concerns, living an idle and
purposeless existence.

"This must be no empty repentance," Rob had said. "When you get back into everyday life
again, don't let yourself forget."

But she had allowed herself to forget. She had been beaten again and again, in the strife
between right and wrong.

She echoed her mother's sigh, and took up the second note.

It was to Mrs. Major; and strong distaste seized her. She had seen very little of Bee lately.
The two had met once or twice in public; but not in private. Magda had been careful to
avoid the latter. She knew that she had not been true to her friend; and she knew that Bee
must know it. Frip's words could not fail to be enlightening.

And now she was as likely as not to find Bee alone. And she had to go in—had to wait for
an answer.

She threw her book impatiently on one side, and left the chair with its crumpled cushions
before the fire. Which house to take first was the question. She decided on the nearer,
because then she could plead a need for haste.

As she went up the garden, she caught sight of Bee's head within the front room, bending
over some work. And when she rang the bell, Mrs. Major came out.

"How do you do? Have you come to see Bee?" Mrs. Major scanned the girl critically, having
remarked the rarity of her calls.

"I've come to bring a note from mother. She said a verbal answer would do."

Mrs. Major glanced down the page. "Yes—your mother wants an address. Will you ask Bee
to look it out in my address-book, please. I have an engagement and cannot wait."

So Magda had no choice. She made her way in, for once so noiselessly that she had time
for observation, before Bee awoke to her presence. Something in Bee's bent head and
quiet look impressed her—something of resolute patience in the sweet face, with its
downcast eyes and dark brows. It made Magda feel uncomfortable—almost guilty. She
stirred, and the other glanced up.
"Why, Magda! It is quite an age since you came last!"

Magda explained her object.

"Yes—I know where the address is. Sit down. I'll look it up."

"I mustn't wait. I've to go on to Claughton."

"Are you in such a hurry? You once said you could bicycle to the Manor in twenty minutes."

"Did I? Oh, I couldn't quite have meant that. It takes half-an-hour at least—and more! And
I ought to get back in time to practice."

Bee went to the davenport, where she hunted out the address and wrote it down.

"Will that do—without a note?"

"Oh yes, thanks!"

Magda stood up, and Bee came close, studying her gravely.

"You used not to seem so impatient to be off!"

"I've got to take mother's note."

"Yes, I know—but it is quite early still." Bee sat down, and a light touch on Magda's wrist
somehow made her do the same. "I don't think there can be such terrific haste, that you
cannot spare a few minutes. I want to ask you what has been the matter lately?"

Somehow, Magda had not expected this; and she flushed up.

"The matter! Oh, why—nothing! Of course not! What do you mean? Why should anything
be the matter?"

"You have not been quite the same lately. And I never like to let misunderstandings run
on. There is some misunderstanding—isn't there?"

"No! Nothing of the sort!" Magda spoke vehemently. "I don't know what you mean."

Then she felt that this was not true.

"Don't you, really?"

"No, of course, I—What do you mean?"

"I have noticed a difference, and I want to know the reason. We are old friends now—and
it seems such a pity to let anything come between us, when perhaps one word of
explanation—"

Magda broke in. "But there's nothing to explain. There isn't, really. I—it's only—I've been—
busy!"

"Busy about what?"

"Oh, I don't know. Heaps of things. Perhaps—more lazy than busy." She tried to laugh, but
could not face the wistful eyes bent upon her. "Oh, bother—why must you be so
inquisitorial?"
"Am I? Well—if you would rather not tell me—"

"I can't. I've nothing to tell."

"Are you sure? Things haven't seemed right. If you would rather drop the subject, I must
let you. Only, if I have hurt you in any way, or if you have thought me unkind, I am sorry."

"Bee! It isn't—"

Magda choked over the words. She hardly knew what to say; for the contrast between
herself and Bee was not pleasing to vanity.

"It isn't what?"

"It's not you! If either of us is wrong, it is I—not you!"

She remembered afterwards that Bee did not contradict the assertion.

"Anyhow, it need not put us apart."

"I suppose not, if—if you don't mind. But—only—" Magda spoke disjointedly, fidgeting with
a cushion-tassel. "Only—you know—one does feel horrid sometimes; and Frip told me she
had told you—and of course—though I really didn't mean to be unkind—"

"When didn't you?"

"You know. You heard what Frip said. And I suppose you would have liked to come—and I
ought to have known. And I dare say I did know, really—only one can't always decide
rightly, just in a moment. Well—if I'm to make a clean breast of it—I didn't want you that
evening, Bee. There! It's out!"

"But why?"

"I liked talking to Mr. Ivor. He was so jolly and amusing. And on the whole I rather thought
he liked talking with me. He is Rob's friend, you see. And he somehow sort of made me
able to talk—you know! As some people can, and only a few. And I wanted it over again.
And I knew I should have no chance if you, were there. He would only have cared to talk
with you."

Magda was not looking up, as she jerked out her little confession. Had she been, she could
not have failed to see the swift flash of response in Bee's face. It was quickly subdued, and
Bee asked mildly—

"Why?"

"My dear, you're dull to-day. You don't seem to understand anything. Why, of course—
because you are you! He would be after you fast enough, if you would let him. You can be
stiff—most people can, I suppose. But everybody says how pretty you are, and how taking.
It's not like Patricia's prettiness. Quite a different sort of thing. But I couldn't help noticing
that afternoon, when Mr. Ivor came to call here—though he and I were talking a lot, his
eyes kept going back and back to you, as if he couldn't help it; and twice he didn't hear
what I was saying."

"I didn't see!"

"Well, anyhow, I did. I declare, Bee, you are looking oceans better than when I came in.
You were so white."
"Just a little tired, perhaps. It does one good to have a chat. Don't worry yourself any
more about—that—or keep away. Come in as often as you can."

Magda stood up. "All right; I will. But I really must go now, or I shall be late for lunch."

"Yes; I won't keep you. But I am glad you came, dear."

Her good-bye kiss in its tender warmth surprised and touched Magda; for she did not feel
that she deserved it.

"I wonder what made me say that—about Mr. Ivor?" she debated, as she bicycled out of
the town. "But it was true. I'd forgotten, till the moment when I said it, how he did look at
her."

And Beatrice, left alone, stood in the room, with both hands pressed hard over her face.

"Oh, if it is! Oh, if it is!" she whispered once or twice.

Then she drew a long breath, and went back to her work quietly, but with a glad light in
her eyes.

"What a child Magda is still!" she uttered aloud, with a little laugh. "I seem to be years and
years the elder!"

CHAPTER XXV
MAGDA'S OLD CHUM

"SO you know the Roystons," remarked Edward Fairfax to his cousin, Mrs. Miles.

He had arrived the evening before, and had been occupied for an hour past with the
newspaper, near an open window. It was a fine day, late in July.

There was nothing restless or impulsive about him. Though only six years Magda's senior,
he might have been well over thirty, judging from his outlines, his immobility, and his
scanty hair. He was neither small and slim like Rob, nor tall and muscular like Ivor; but of
another stamp altogether. Medium in site, and solid in make, he had rugged features, yet a
very pleasant face. As he sat thus, silent and motionless, a looker-on could hardly have
imagined the possibility of Fairfax out of temper. He seemed to be made up of kindliness
and good sense. A queer little twinkle in his light-grey eyes gave promise of the "saving
sense of humour," which alone goes a long way; and he also had a well-shaped head. As
he spoke, he glanced over the edge of his newspaper.

"We know them well. Especially the second girl."

"Magda?"

"That is the one. She says she knew you in old days."
"Yes. Odd little scarecrow of a being, when I first came across her. She'd got into a way of
talking all over the shop about her troubles. I cured her of that—made her tell me instead.
I used to chaff her fearfully, and she took it well."

"Perhaps she wouldn't have taken it well from everybody. What sort of troubles?"

"Oh, a rum lot! She was always in hot water, somehow. I never could make out who was to
blame. So I just told her to keep a stiff upper lip, and not to worry. She had ripping hair—
all down her back."

"She has lovely hair now—rather wild sometimes. And she isn't bad-looking. The advice
given sounds extremely like Ned Fairfax."

"What else would you have had me say? I wonder if she remembers what chums we
were."

"Why—of course. It was she who told me first, when she happened to see your likeness."

"Yes—but still, it was she who dropped me, not I who dropped her. I wrote last, and had
no answer. So I stopped."

"You might have tried a second time, if you wanted to keep it up."

"I might—but I didn't."

"Some day soon you are sure to see her. She is rather fond of dropping in here. And you
will pay us a long visit."

"Anyhow, I think I'll look up Magda—presently."

"My dear Ned, you have not seen her since she was a child. Wouldn't you rather call her
'Miss Royston'?"

"She is not 'Miss Royston.' And 'Miss Magda Royston' is such a mouthful."

"I should imagine that she would expect it."

Fairfax returned to his paper for another half-hour. Then he put it aside, and went out,
aiming for Magda Royston's home.

It was quite true that he and she had been great chums, in the days when he was a big
schoolboy from fourteen to seventeen, and she an excitable little girl from eight to eleven.
He had made a pet of her, and she had made a hero of him. She had confided to him her
every thought and trouble; and he in return, from laughing and pitying, had grown to be
fond of the impetuous warm-hearted difficult child, whom nobody seemed to understand.
He was rather curious to see what manner of being she had grown into.

Reaching the house, he decided against a formal entrance by means of the front door. It
was not an hour for a stiff call; and as a boy, he had been free of the garden. He saw no
reason why he should not revert to old habits.

So, following a path amid bushes which led round behind, he found himself close to the
kitchen garden; and a few yards in advance of him, their backs turned in his direction, he
saw two girls; one small and long-haired; the other rather tall and slight.

"Yes, dear," the latter was saying in a soft voice. "But I don't think it does to mind that sort
of thing too much. It isn't worth while. Shall we go and feed the chickens?"
"She needn't be so cross, though—need she?"

"I don't think she means to be cross, darling. Perhaps she is worried about something.
That often makes people seem a little cross, you know."

"I beg your pardon—" Ned interposed, with lifted cap; and they turned promptly.

"No—not Magda!" Ned instantly decided. That serene brow, those smiling eyes and happy
lips, could hardly appertain to his quondam chum. Unless, indeed, the years had remade
her! But this girl was surely younger; hardly more than sixteen, with smooth dark hair.
Another sort altogether. Not pretty perhaps in the ordinary sense of the word—but
something in the sunshine of that childlike face enchained attention.

"I beg your pardon—" Ned was saying aloud, while such thoughts flashed through his
mind. "I fancied you might be Miss Magda Royston."

"Oh, no, I'm only her sister. I'm Merryl," came in frank reply. "Do you want to see Magda?"

"She and I are old friends. I am afraid I have taken rather a liberty in coming this way; but
it all looked so familiar that I—well, I came. You don't know me, of course. You must have
been one of the little ones in those days. I am Ned Fairfax."

Merryl's hand came out cordially.

"But of course I remember. I'm only two years younger than Magda—though we did seem
so far apart then. Of course I remember. You were always so good to us little ones. Will
you come indoors, and shall I call her? She has gone to the other end of the kitchen
garden."

"Then perhaps I might find her there. I should like to discover if she will recognise me—
unannounced."

"If you like—please do. But I am sure mother will wish to see you too."

"Hadn't I better choose a more orthodox hour for calling? One afternoon, perhaps. I've
come to the Vicarage for ten days."

"Yes, we heard you were coming; and Magda was so pleased."

"Then she has not quite forgotten me. And this of course is little Frip!" Ned's hand grasped
Francie's pleasantly. Children always took to him, and Frip proved no exception.

"Frip is our baby still," observed Merryl. "I sometimes think she always will be. We are
going now to feed the chickens. You are sure you would rather find Magda yourself?"

Ned was not quite sure. He felt tempted to ask if he might not first interview the chickens;
but this suggestion was resisted.

Merryl smiled a good-bye; and as the two went off, he overheard a shrill little voice saying
—"I like that man! Don't you?" Followed by a—"Hush, darling."

"That's a nice girl," Ned murmured. He recalled the plump plain-faced little Merryl of
former times, and marvelled over time's developments. Would Magda be equally
transformed? And if so, in what direction? She had been better-looking than Merryl,
despite her "scarecrow" outlines. Whether she would be so still remained to be seen.
Ned knew well the walk at the end of the kitchen garden. It had been there that Magda
was wont, in past days, to take refuge from a troublesome world, when in one of her
injured moods. He wondered whether she kept the habit up still. Then Merryl's words
recurred to his mind; and he questioned—was it Magda who had been "cross"?

There she was—pacing hurriedly along the grass-path, just as in old times. Something had
plainly gone wrong with her. She was walking away from where he stood; and he
examined the restless movements, contrasting them mentally with the repose of the
younger girl's look. Like many men, perhaps most men, Ned loved repose.

Now she was coming back, moving still with a quick impatient swing, as if working off
indignation. Her eyes were bent on the ground and he had time to analyse her further,
before she looked up. Improved in some ways, he told himself. Height and figure were
good; and she held herself well; and the sunshine, catching her hair, lighted the red-gold
into brilliancy. But the face at that moment was not a happy one.

Suddenly—as a result, perhaps, of his gaze—she glanced full at him. There was a
momentary hesitation; and then a glow of pleasure.

"Ned!" she cried, and drew back. "Oh, I beg your pardon. I mean—Mr. Fairfax."

"Since when have I ceased to be 'Ned'?" he asked, as their hands met.

"Since we grew into strangers," she replied readily. "Ages ago! But I heard you were
coming, and I wondered if we should come across one another."

"Was it likely that we should not?"

"How could I tell? Those are such far-off times. But it is nice to see you again. Have you
seen mother yet?"

"I did not suppose she would be grateful for so early a call."

"But how did you get round here?"

"Usual mode of progression—on my two feet."

"Oh, how like you are to what you used to be! We always talked nonsense together."

"Did we? My impression is that we discussed endlessly your heart-breaking trials and
dismal views of life."

"But then you always made them out to be nothing."

"And then you used to howl and be the better for it."

"Girls always are the better for it, I suppose. I don't howl now. And really I did not often
then."

"Not more than three times a week, on an average."

"Oh, I didn't! That is too bad."

"It was a safety-valve. You would have gone off in steam, otherwise."

"But what are you doing now, N—Mr. Fairfax? I mean—what are you—if you don't mind my
putting the question? I know nothing of your history."
"Yet we seem to meet very much on the old level."

"I always fancied we should. We were such real friends!"

"Though the friendship has been in complete abeyance!"

"Fizzled out into nothing," she rejoined. "Well, it wasn't my fault. I wrote last."

"I beg your pardon; I wrote last, and had no answer."

"N—Mr. Fairfax! You didn't."

"Miss Magda Royston—pardon me! I did."

"But I do assure you—"

"I sent you a lengthy and most interesting composition, full of sympathy for your bereft
condition. And that was the end. I had no reply. So I came to the conclusion that you had
found another Ned, and wanted no more of me."

"But indeed, indeed, I wrote last. I wrote sheets; and you never answered them. So I was
dreadfully miserable, and I knew you were tired of me, and delighted to get away. And so
—"

"So it meant a long gap. But old friends can always begin again, just where they left off."

"It's very nice," murmured Magda. Then she wondered what her mother and Pen would
say if she kept N—Mr. Fairfax all to herself out here. "I think I ought to take you indoors,"
she remarked. "Wouldn't you like to see the others?"

"I'm glad to see everybody. You asked a question just now."

"Yes. I thought you didn't mean to answer it."

"Why should I not? My mother has made a home for me in town, and I have a post in a
bank."

"I see—" with a note of disappointment.

"Not romantic, is it? A good many useful things in life are unromantic."

"But you like it?"

"One must do something, and that turned up. It seemed as good as anything else was
likely to be."

They began to move towards the house. Magda had suggested this, but it was Fairfax who
took the first step. Magda talked eagerly, bringing up one reminiscence after another, and
he responded sufficiently to keep her going.

Perhaps his interest was a little less keen than hers; for when they came across Mrs.
Royston and Merryl in the flower-garden, and Magda muttered an impatient—"Oh, bother!"
Fairfax showed no reluctance. He even quickened his pace to meet them. Magda wanted to
keep him longer to herself, for she had no notion of sharing her friend with others.
 CHAPTER XXVI
WHERETO THINGS TENDED

"WHAT is all this about, mother?" Rob asked three weeks later. "I mean, of course,—the
girls."

He had run down for a few days, spending the greater part of them with Patricia. Mrs.
Royston thought him looking pale and worried, even unhappy. But he said nothing which
could give a clue to the cause; and she was reluctant to force confidence by direct
questions. Rob, whatever his own cares might be, was not too much wrapped up in them
to note other people's concerns; and he very soon put the above query.

The condition of things which led to it was as follows.

Pen had an affair on hand, which had suddenly reached a forward stage, occupying the
whole of her attention. A recent acquaintance, the Honourable James Wagstaff, a sensible
and agreeable bachelor, well over sixty, with plenty of money, had taken a fancy to "neat
Pen," and was assiduously pursuing her. Pen showed no reluctance or hesitation. It became
clear that she was simply waiting for the word to be spoken.

There was nothing romantic or misty about this affair. It was straightforward and business-
like.

Ned Fairfax had been much in and out of the house. Having come to his cousin's for a
fortnight, he was there still. From the first he had dropped, easily and naturally, into his
old position of intimacy with the Royston family. Much as Mrs. Royston liked him, she
would have preferred a more cautious advance; but she found herself powerless. Fairfax
took it for granted that he might do as he liked; and he made himself so charming to her
personally, that she had not the heart to administer a check.

He was Magda's especial friend. All her world admitted the fact. She had the first right;
and she took care to claim it. When Ned came to the house, he of course came to see her;
and she was always on the spot, never doubting that he felt as she did.

It was delightful to have him again; to revert at once to the old order; to pour out
unreservedly in his hearing her aims, her wishes, her difficulties, her worries—to be
laughed at and genially set to rights by him. She enjoyed it heartily. Each day her mind
was more and more full of Ned—of nothing but Ned. As usual, her steed ran away with
her; and she could think of nought else. When Robert arrived, she did not so much as
notice his pale and altered look. Her whole world now consisted of—Ned.

So different, she told herself, from the time when she had that silly little fancy for Mr. Ivor!
She had never given him another thought since he went away; and he had not again been
to the place. But Ned was her friend—her property—and everybody knew it. Everybody
appeared to recognise her right.

Just exactly like former days!

Well, no; perhaps not exactly. As time went on, it dawned upon her that a distinction did
exist. Some measure of reconstruction in the manner of their friendship was needful.
Things had to be different from the days when he was a big boy and she a small girl. She
could not now rush after Ned, whenever she wanted him. She must wait till he chose to
come. He was a man—and she a woman—which altered the whole outlook.

He did very often come. But was it only or mainly after Magda? This was a question which
soon took shape in the mind of Mrs. Royston. He always saw Magda, it was true, for she
managed to be invariably to the fore; and the one desire of unselfish Merryl seemed to be
that Magda should thoroughly enjoy her old friend. So surely as Fairfax appeared on the
scene, Merryl effaced herself and left him to Magda. Mrs. Royston, watching with a
mother's solicitude, had doubts whether Fairfax was duly grateful.

No doubt he had at first thought mainly of Magda. He had even recognised a dim notion in
his own mind that, not impossibly, his one time little chum and playmate might suit him
for a life-mate.

But on his arrival, the first strong impression made upon him was imprinted, not by Magda
but by Merryl. And unfortunately for herself, Magda did not go to work in the right way to
counteract this impression, as she would have wished. She was making herself cheap. A
man often values more highly the thing that he cannot too easily obtain. There was about
Merryl a touch of the elusive which fascinated him. In Magda, he found no trace of the
elusive. He had begun to grow—though he hardly yet acknowledged the fact—rather tired
of her outpourings. And he could not but note that Magda always talked about herself—a
subject direfully apt to become boredom to the listener! Whereas Merryl never did.

True, he was very pleasant with his former chum. It was his way to be pleasant with
people in general, and he was not given to administering snubs. He treated her with frank
kindliness, and was always ready to respond to her sallies. That did not mean much, Mrs.
Royston thought; and she was troubled to see Magda so entirely absorbed in this revival of
a childish friendship—far more absorbed, she feared, with Fairfax, than Fairfax was with
her.

Sometimes she all but resolved to give a word of warning. But Magda was apt to receive
such words tempestuously; and also she had a wholesome dread of suggesting ideas and
feelings that had not yet taken shape. Ned Fairfax would soon return to London, and then
things would go back to their normal state; except that Magda would pass through one of
her uncomfortable states of discontent.

While she so debated, Rob came home, and before two days were over, finding himself
alone with his mother, he asked—

"What is all this about?"

"I think it is genuine with Pen and Mr. Wagstaff," she said.

"He's old enough to be her grandfather."

"There is a difference in age, but not so much as that, Rob. And after all, Pen has always
taken to people older than herself. And she is so staid and controlled—don't you think it
may be better for her than a very young husband?"

"Such a thing does exist as the happy medium! But if it is for her happiness—and if you
and my father are satisfied—"

"Your father likes Mr. Wagstaff. And I do think that Pen is—not exactly in love, perhaps, but
really attached to him."
"And what about Magda?"

"I don't know what to think. I am rather sorry that Mr. Fairfax has turned up. He is such a
good pleasant fellow; but Magda's head is completely turned. And I cannot see that it is
his fault. She takes it for granted that he is just the same now as when she was a child.
And really—such a friendship—after all these years—"

"That is all nonsense, mother."

"Magda doesn't see it so. She seems never to have a doubt. And his is not the manner of a
lover. He lets her talk, and he chaffs her, but I don't believe he is touched."

"Whether Magda is touched seems more to the point!"

"It is my fear. But what can one do? Speaking too soon might do harm. I don't want to put
the idea into Magda's head that he is after her."

"You don't suppose the idea isn't in her head already!"

"I really cannot say, Rob. She is still so oddly childish in some respects—actually in many
ways younger than Merryl, since Merryl's illness. Magda seems to think of nothing beyond
their old friendship. She is continually recurring to it. Mr. Fairfax must grow rather sick of
the subject. And—perhaps I am only fancying—but I do sometimes think he is a little taken
with Merryl."

"That infant!"

"Yes, of course she is very young, but she is old for her age now. And he is very discreet.
It may be nothing. Anyhow, he goes home in three or four days; so I hope all this will be
over. And Magda in time may forget."

"I wish Magda had more balance," he said with a sigh.

Mrs. Royston longed to ask him—"Is all right between you and Patricia?" Her cautious
reserve, and fear of saying the wrong thing, held her back.

Fairfax did not leave so soon as was expected. He again deferred his departure, not
leaving until the day after Rob.

Late that last afternoon he appeared; and for once Magda was not on the watch. She had
been called away; and he followed his favourite route to the back of the house, coming
upon Merryl. She met him with a little flush and smile of greeting, and he thought once
more, as often before, what a happy winsome face hers was.

"How do you do? Have you come to say good-bye to Magda? I'll call her."

"Not yet," he replied cheerfully. "There's plenty of time. I'll get through my good-bye to
you first."

"But Magda won't like—she will want to know at once!" Merryl showed uneasiness.

"Plenty of time," repeated Ned. He was not going to lose this opportunity. "Did you tell me
a day or two ago that you had a little greenhouse of your own? I wish you would show it to
me. It's all right," as she glanced round. "Magda will come after us directly." The old use of
Christian names had been reverted to.