or Lacey? Mind you go
and see the picture next time you're there! It's really very like."

I promised to see the picture, and asked her how she had got on with
Fillingford.

"Oh, I like him well enough, but--" She paused and smiled reflectively.
"Down at the Simpsons' there was a certain young man--boy he really
was--whom we called Rabbit. That was only because of the shape of his
mouth, and has nothing to do with the story! I used sometimes to walk
home with Rabbit--from evening church, or lawn-tennis parties, and so
on, you know." (Were these the occasions on which she was rather late
for supper--without incurring Chat's rebuke?) "We girls used to laugh at
him because he always began by taking great pains to show you that he
didn't mean to flirt--well, at all events, didn't mean to begin the
flirtation. If you wanted to flirt, you must begin yourself--that was
Rabbit's attitude, and he made it perfectly plain in his behavior.

"Rabbit can't have been a very amusing youth to walk home with in the
gloaming?" I ventured to suggest.

"He wasn't, but then there wasn't much choice down at the Simpsons', you
know. Besides, it could be made rather funny with Rabbit. You see, he
wouldn't begin because he had such a terror of being snubbed." She
laughed in an amused reminiscence. "I think I shall call Lord
Fillingford Rabbit," she ended.

"It'll be very disrespectful."

"Oh, you can't make all the nicknames for yourself!" She paused and
added, apparently with a good deal of satisfaction--"Rabbit--and
Volcano--yes!"

CHAPTER VII

THE FLICK OF A WHIP

Jenny spent a large part of the winter in Italy, Chat being with her,
Cartmell and I left in charge at home. But early in the New Year she
came back and then, her mourning being over, she launched out. Without
forgetting her father's injunction against spending all her income, she
organized the household on a more extensive scale; new carriages and
more horses, a couple of motors, and a little electric launch for the
lake were among the additions she made. The out-of-doors staff grew till
Cartmell had to ask for an estate-steward to take the routine off his
shoulders, while Mrs. Bennet and Loft blazed with pride at the swelling
numbers of their subordinates in the house itself. Jenny's taste for
splendor came out. She even loved a touch of the gorgeous; old Mr.
Driver's dark blue liveries assumed a decidedly brighter tint, and I
heard her express regret that post