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things I don’t like—so many hours of darkness, even at the height of summer. Especially now—”
    She broke off and concentrated on several intricate turns that made me feel we were heading into the heart of a maze. I had a despairing moment when I feared we might never find our way out of it again.
    The broad well-lighted street was left behind; we were in a dark twisting road that narrowed as we went along. It was still a two-lane thoroughfare—but only just. Houses were fewer and either unoccupied or owned by people who were going to wait until all traces of light had gone before they began using electricity. I was familiar with the legendary New England thrift.
    â€œThere are a lot of summer cottages up here,” Celia said reassuringly. “The owners only come for weekends right now. The season doesn’t start properly until after the Fourth of July, then it goes on until after Labor Day. Some people keep coming for weekends through September and into October if the weather holds fair.”
    â€œIt’s been perfect today. In fact—” With the trip pending, I had begun paying close attention to the foreign weather reports in the daily newspapers. “I gather you’ve been having good weather for quite a while.”
    â€œToo good.” Celia frowned into the gloom. “We’d welcome some rain. Everything is getting too dry. This early in the summer, the worst of the heat hasn’t hit us yet. If we don’t get a few good soakings before then—” She broke off and took a final turning in a burst of speed, drawing up before a large house set well back from the road.

    â€œHere we are, she said thankfully. “Here’s your home for the summer.”
    â€œAll of it?” Timothy asked in awe. We stared at it in amazement and not a little unease.
    â€œIt’s bigger than I thought it would be,” I found my voice at last. “Ours is just a semi-detached.” I was swept by compunction for the innocent Harpers who, at this very moment, might be arriving at the door of our house and wondering if they could squeeze into such small quarters. “What will they think—?”
    â€œOh, Nancy and Arnold won’t mind,” Celia said airily. “I’ve already explained to them that it won’t be as big as they’re used to and Nancy was quite pleased. Sometimes I think the housework gets on top of her. Arnold won’t even notice and the kids will enjoy the novelty.”
    The house was dark, which rather surprised me. I had thought that Patrick, since he hadn’t been at the airport, might have been waiting at the house to greet us. It seemed, however, that he was going to leave Celia to do all the honours.
    â€œCome along—” She opened her door and stepped out briskly. “I’ve got the keys. Let’s get the luggage inside and I’ll show you round, then …” She hesitated. “Then I’ll leave you to settle in and I—I’ll come over for coffee in the morning and drive you round the local spots of interest.”
    â€œOh?” I couldn’t hide my surprise and disappointment. I had been looking forward to a long gossip with Celia after we had put the children to bed.
    â€œI’m sorry—” She turned the pale blur of her face
away as she led the way up the path. “I must get back to Patrick … he … isn’t well.”
    â€œI’m sorry.” I apologized in turn. “I hadn’t realized. What—?”
    â€œLater …” Her footsteps echoed on the wooden steps and across the wooden porch. “Tomorrow …” She opened a screen door, then I heard the scrape of a key in the lock and the inner door swung open. Celia stepped inside, there was the snap of a switch and light flooded the porch.
    â€œLook—” Timothy lingered at the top of the steps, surveying the porch. “They’ve got