ence in their actual ages was not
great, they might well have been at different stages of life. For all
her youth, all her grace, her black and white distinction, Chloe was a
woman, and no one looking at her would have doubted that to her had come
some of the most vital moments of a woman's life. But Iris Wayne was
only a girl, an untried warrior in the battle of existence. The glance
of her large and radiant eyes was far more akin to that of the child
Cherry's brown orbs than to the serious, rather cynical regard which
habitually dwelt in Mrs. Carstairs' sapphire-blue eyes; and in every
look, every word, was the delicious freshness of a joyous youth. Yet he
fancied there was something in the curve of her lips, in the shape of
her head, which betokened strength of character as well as lightness of
heart. He fancied that her mouth could be tender as well as gay, that
her eyes might one day look into the eyes of a man with a promise in
their depths of strong and steadfast womanhood.

It chanced presently that Anstice was offered some strawberries,
floating in a delicious-looking syrup; and a glance at his hostess
betrayed his half-humorous perplexity.

"I know it isn't the right season for strawberries," said Mrs. Carstairs
with a smile. "But these are some of our own, bottled by a famous method
of Tochatti's. Do try them and give us your opinion."

Anstice complied; and found them excellent.

"They are delicious," he said, "and bring summer very close. Don't you
like them?" he asked Cherry, who was demurely nibbling a macaroon.

"No thank you, my dear," replied Cherry gravely. "They give me a pain in
my head."

"Oh, do they?" Anstice was nonplussed by this extraordinary assertion,
the grounds for which were not borne out by such medical skill as he
possessed; but chancing to look across the table at Iris Wayne he found
her dimpling deliciously at his perplexity.

"You look puzzled, Dr. Anstice!" She laughed outright. "You see you
don't understand how it happens that a pain in the head is connected
with strawberries!"

"I don't," he said, "but if you will kindly explain----"

"May I, Cherry?" She looked at the child with a mischievous sparkle in
her eyes, and Cherry nodded.

"If you like, my dear. But _I_ think it's rather a silly story."

Notwithstanding this expression of opinion Iris entered forthwith into
an explanation.

"You see, Dr. Anstice, Cherry came to stay with me last summer when the
strawberri