Zabriska at the age of twenty-eight
had been a widow three years--desired to do was harm; the thing she best
loved to make was mischief. The essence of mischief lay for her--perhaps
for everybody--in curiosity; it was to put people in the situations in
which they least expected to find themselves, and to observe how they
comported themselves therein. As for hurting their interests or even
their feelings--no; she was certain that she did not want that; was she
not always terribly sorry when that happened, as it sometimes, and quite
unaccountably, did? She would weep then--but for their misfortune, be it
understood, not for any fault of hers. People did not always understand
her; her mother had understood her perfectly, and consequently had never
interfered with her ways. Mina loved a mystification too, and especially
to mystify uncle Duplay, who thought himself so clever--was clever
indeed as men went, she acknowledged generously; but men did not go far.
It would be fun to choose Merrion Lodge for her summer home, first
because her uncle would wonder why in the world she took it, and
secondly because she had guessed that somebody might be surprised to see
her there. So she laid her plan, even as she had played her tricks in
the days when she was an odd little girl, and Mr Cholderton, not liking
her, had with some justice christened her the Imp.

Major Duplay bowed Mr Sloyd to the door with the understanding that full
details of Merrion Lodge were to be furnished in a day or two. Coming
back to the hearth-rug he spoke to his niece in French, as was the
custom with the pair when they were alone.

"And now, dear Mina," said he, "what has made you set your mind on what
seems distinctly the least desirable of these houses?"

"It's the cheapest, I expect, and I want to economize."

"People always do as soon as they've got any money," reflected Duplay in
a puzzled tone. "If you were on half-pay as I am, you'd never want to do
it."

"Well, I've another reason." This was already saying more than she had
meant to say.

"Which you don't mean to tell me?"

"Certainly not."

With a shrug he took out his cigarette-case and handed it to her.

"You and your secrets!" he exclaimed good-humoredly. "Really, Mina, I
more than earn my keep by the pleasure I give you in not telling me
things. And then you go and do it!"

"Shan't this time," said Mr Cholderton's Imp, seeming not a day more
than ten, in spite of her smoking cigaret