ow it to him.

"Why it's a dog," cried Rorie, with deep-toned disgust. "It's old
Argus."

"Who did you think it was?"

"You, of course."

"What an idea! As if I should give anyone my portrait. I knew you were
fond of Argus. Doesn't his head come out beautifully? The photographer
said he was the best sitter he had had for ever so long. I hope you
don't quite detest the locket, Rorie."

"I admire it intensely, and I'm deeply grateful. But I feel
inexpressibly sold, all the same. And I am to go about the world with
Argus dangling at my breast. Well, for your sake, Vixen, I'll submit
even to that degradation."

Here came the cart, with two flaming lamps, like angry eyes flashing
through the shrubberies. It pulled up at the steps. Rorie and Vixen
clasped hands and bade good-night, and then the young man swung himself
lightly into the seat beside the driver, and away went Starlight Bess
making just that soft of dashing and spirited start which inspires the
timorous beholder with the idea that the next proceeding will be the
bringing home of the driver and his companion upon a brace of shutters.

CHAPTER V.

Rorie makes a Speech.

Somewhat to his surprise, and much to his delight, Roderick Vawdrey
escaped that maternal lecture which he was wont undutifully to describe
as a "wigging." When he entered the drawing-room in full dress just
about ten minutes before the first of the guests was announced, Lady
Jane received him with a calm affectionateness, and asked him no
questions about his disposal of the afternoon. Perhaps this unusual
clemency was in honour of his twenty-first birthday, Rorie thought. A
man could not come of age more than once in his life. He was entitled
to some favour.

The dinner-party was as other dinners at Briarwood; all the
arrangements perfect; the _menu_ commendable, if not new; the general
result a little dull.

The Ashbourne party were among the first to arrive; the Duke portly and
affable; the Duchess delighted to welcome her favourite nephew; Lady
Mabel looking very fragile, flower-like, and graceful, in her pale blue
gauze dinner-dress. Lady Mabel affected the palest tints, half-colours,
which were more like the shadows in a sunset sky than any earthly hues.

She took possession of Rorie at once, treating him with a calm
superiority, as if he had been a younger brother.

"Tell me all about Switzerland," she said, as they sat side by side on
one of the amber ottomans. "What was