“There, there, my precious,” she kept saying. “Don’t cry. We’ll think of something. You’ll see. It’ll be all right. We’ll think of something.” What sort of something it might be she couldn’t, at this stage, begin to guess, but nevertheless the soothing words, over and over again repeated, began to have their effect on her own spirits as well as on Helen’s; and by the time the sunset had changed from flame to pink, and from pink to a clear, translucent green, the two were deep in plans. “You see, dear,” Margaret explained, “it’s not just a matter of my standing on my legal rights and refusing to sell. It’s the Compulsory Purchase Order. That’s what we have to worry about now. Did your mother tell you about the Compulsory Purchase Order?” Helen shook her head. She looked wary. What monstrous ally was to be brought in now on the side of the eight thousand pounds—already, one would have thought, a cruel and powerful enemy enough?
