ming funny things that had been done--or might have been done, for he
could imagine almost anything.

Scrap's eyes grew round with wonder and affectionate pride in her
mother. Why, but how funny---fancy mother. What an old darling. Did
she really do that? How perfectly adorable of her. And did she really
say--but how wonderful of her to think of it. What sort of a face did
Lloyd George make?

She laughed and laughed, and had a great longing to hug her
mother, and the time flew, and it grew quite dusk, and it grew nearly
dark, and Mr. Arundel still went on amusing her, and it was a quarter
to eight before she suddenly remembered dinner.

"Oh, good heavens!" she exclaimed, jumping up.

"Yes. It's late," said Arundel.

"I'll go on quickly and send the maid to you. I must run, or
I'll never be ready in time--"

And she was gone up the path with the swiftness of a young,
slender deer.

Arundel followed. He did not wish to arrive too hot, so had to
go slowly. Fortunately he was near the top, and Francesca came down
the pergola to pilot him indoors, and having shown him where he could
wash she put him in the empty drawing-room to cool himself by the
crackling wood fire.

He got as far away from the fire as he could, and stood in one of
the deep window-recesses looking out at the distant lights of Mezzago.
The drawing-room door was open, and the house was quiet with the hush
that precedes dinner, when the inhabitants are all shut up in their
rooms dressing. Briggs in his room was throwing away spoilt tie after
spoilt tie; Scrap in hers was hurrying into a black frock with a vague
notion that Mr. Briggs wouldn't be able to see her so clearly in black;
Mrs. Fisher was fastening the lace shawl, which nightly transformed her
day dress into her evening dress, with the brooch Ruskin had given her
on her marriage, formed of two pearl lilies tied together by a blue
enamel ribbon on which was written in gold letters Esto perpetua; Mr.
Wilkins was sitting on the edge of his bed brushing his wife's hair--
thus far in this third week had he progressed in demonstrativeness--
while she, for her part, sitting on a chair in front of him, put his
studs in a clean shirt; and Rose, ready dressed, sat at her window
considering her day.

Rose was quite aware of what had happened to Mr. Briggs. If she
had had any difficulty about it, Lotty would have removed it by the
frank comments she made while she and Rose sat together af