m the Mount."

The glory faded slowly out of his eyes.

"Come back to heaven, Di," he retorted a little sadly, "That's where
you came from, you know."

Diana shook her head.

"You did, I verily believe," she declared affectionately. "But there's
only a very small slice of heaven in my composition, I'm afraid."

Stair looked down at her thoughtfully, at the clean line of the cheek
curving into the pointed, determined little chin, at the sensitive,
eager mouth, unconsciously sensuous in the lovely curve of its short
upper-lip, at the ardent, glowing eyes--the whole face vital with the
passionate demand of youth for the kingdoms of the earth.

"We've all got our share of heaven, my dear," he said at last, smiling
a little. "But I'm thinking yours may need some hard chiselling of
fate to bring it into prominence."

Diana wriggled her shoulders.

"It doesn't sound nice, Pobs. I don't in the least want to be
chiselled into shape, it reminds one too much of the dentist."

"The gentleman who chisels out decay? You're exactly carrying out my
metaphor to its bitter end," returned Stair composedly.

"Oh, Joan, do stop him," exclaimed Diana appealingly. "I'm going to
church this morning, and if he lectures me like this I shall have no
appetite left for spiritual things."

"I didn't know you ever had--much," replied Joan, laughing.

"Well, anyway, I've a thoroughly healthy appetite for my breakfast,"
said Diana, as they went into the dining-room. "I'm feeling
particularly cheerful just this moment. I have a presentiment that
something very delightful is going to happen to me to-day--though, to
be sure, Sunday isn't usually a day when exciting things occur."

"Dreams generally go by contraries," observed Joan sagely. "And I
rather think the same applies to presentiments. I know that whenever I
have felt a comfortable assurance that everything was going smoothly,
it has generally been followed by one of the servants giving notice, or
the bursting of the kitchen boiler, or something equally disagreeable."

Diana gurgled unfeelingly.

"Oh, those are merely the commonplaces of existence," she replied. "I
was meaning"--waving her hand expansively--"big things."

"And when you've got your own house, my dear," retorted Joan, "you'll
find those commonplaces of existence assume alarmingly big proportions."

Soon after Stair had finished his after-breakfast pipe, the chiming of
the bells announced that it was time