“Look!” he repeated. “I’d better come clean and explain at once that I take a — well, a professional interest in all this. On holiday: but a news-hound’s job’s never done, is it? It seems to me there’s quite a story here. I’m sure my paper would want our readers to hear about it. London Sun, and I’m Kenneth Joyce. K.J.’s column, you know: ‘What’s the Answer?’ Now, what do you all say? Just a news item. Nothing spectacular.”

“Oh, no!” Mrs. Barrimore ejaculated and then added: “I’m sorry. It’s simply that I really do so dislike that sort of thing.”

“Couldn’t agree more,” said Dr. Mayne. For a second they looked at each other.

“I really think,” the Rector said, “not. I’m afraid I dislike it too, Mr. Joyce.”

“So do I,” Jenny said.

“Do you?” asked Mr. Joyce. “I’m sorry about that. I was going to ask if you’d lend me this picture. It’d blow up quite nicely. My paper would pay—”

“No,” Jenny said.

“Golly, how fierce!” said Mr. Joyce, pretending to shrink. He looked about him. “Now, why not?” he asked.

Major Barrimore said: “I don’t know why not. I can’t say I see anything wrong with it. The thing’s happened, hasn’t it, and it’s damned interesting. Why shouldn’t people hear about it?”

“Oh, I do agree,” cried Miss Cost. “I’m sorry, but I do so agree with the Major. When the papers are full of such dreadful things, shouldn’t we welcome a lovely, lovely true story like Wally’s? Oh, yes!”

Patrick said to Mr. Joyce: “Well, at least you declared yourself,” and grinned at him.

“He wanted Jenny’s photograph,” said Mrs. Barrimore quietly. “So he had to.”

They looked at her with astonishment. “Well, honestly, Mama!” Patrick ejaculated. “What a very crisp remark!”

“An extremely cogent remark,” said Dr. Mayne.

“I don’t think so,” Major Barrimore said loudly, and Jenny was aware of an antagonism that had nothing to do with the matter under discussion.