lia and the Philosopher came back just as luncheon was served. Dahlia
was looking pinker than ever, and I thought the Philosopher's tan had
rather a pinkish hue, also. I felt obliged to ask Dahlia to stay to
luncheon and she promptly accepted. Throughout the meal she was very
gay, sitting at my round table between the Philosopher and the Skeptic,
and plying both with attentions. It is a singular phrase to use, in
speaking of a girl, but I know no other that applies so well--in
Dahlia's case.

After luncheon the Philosopher bolted. His movements are usually
deliberate, but I never saw a quicker exit made from a dining-room which
has only two doors. One door leads into the hall, the other to the
pantry. The rest of us went out the hall door. When we reached the porch
the Philosopher was missing. There is no explanation except that he went
out by the pantry door.

On the porch the Skeptic said, "I must run down to the barn and look
after Skylark's foot. He cut himself when I was out on him yesterday."

He hastened away down the driveway.

Dahlia looked after him.

"Is Skylark here?" she asked. "Oh, how I want to see the dear thing!
And he's cut his foot!--I'm going to run down to the barn, too, and
see him."

And she hurried away after the Skeptic.

"I think I'll go in and sleep a while," said the Gay Lady to me. Her
expressive lips had a curious little twist of scorn.

"I should, too, if I hadn't a new guest," said I.

We tried not to smile at each other, but we couldn't quite help it.

The Gay Lady went away to her room. I heard her close the blinds on the
side that looked off toward the barn, and, glancing up, saw that she had
turned down the slats tightly.

* * * * *

I think it must have been well on toward four in the afternoon when the
white sunbonnet at last disappeared through the gap in the hedge. The
Skeptic came back up the garden path at the pace of an escaping convict,
and went tearing up the stairs to his room. I heard him splashing like a
seal in his bath. Presently he came out, freshly attired and went away
down the road, in the opposite direction from that in which lay the
house beyond the hedge.

Dahlia came over at twilight that evening--to bring me a great bunch of
golden-glow. She was captivatingly arrayed in blue. She remained for an
hour or so. When she went away the Skeptic walked home with her. He was
forced to do it. The Philosopher had disappeared a