's sake! She must have been waiting an hour or more."

"What?" Mordaunt turned back sharply, frowning.

"Don't scowl, there's a dear chap," said Jack. "I'm awfully sorry. I had
such a shoal of things to see to. She's upstairs, right at the top of the
house, first door you come to. She said you were to go up and have tea
with her and Cinders. Really, I'm horribly sorry."

"All right. So you ought to be," Mordaunt said, and left him to his
regrets.

He was somewhat breathless when he arrived outside the door of Chris's
little sanctum, but he did not pause on that account. He knocked with his
hand already upon the handle, and almost immediately turned it.

"I can come in?" he asked.

A muffled bark from Cinders was the only answer--a warning bark, as
though he would have the intruder tread softly.

Mordaunt trod softly in consequence, softly entered, softly closed the
door.

He found his little _fiancee_ crouched on the floor beside an ancient
sofa, her arms resting upon it and her head sunk upon them. Cinders, very
alert, bristling with importance, mounted guard on the sofa itself.

For Chris was asleep, curled up in her bridesmaid finery, a study in
white and blue, with a single splash of vivid red-gold where the sunlight
touched her hair.

Cinders growled below his breath as Mordaunt approached. He also wagged
his tail, though without effusion. The visitor was welcome so far as he
was concerned, but he must make no disturbance. A canny little beast was
Cinders.

And so, noiselessly, Mordaunt drew near, and bent above the child upon
the floor. He saw that she had been crying. Even in repose her face
looked wan, and there was a soaked morsel of lace that had evidently been
quite inadequate for the occasion crumpled up in one hand.

What was the trouble? he wondered, and wished with all his heart that
Cinders could impart it. He had no doubt that Cinders knew.

It seemed almost cruel to awake her, but neither could he bring himself
to leave her as she was. He looked to Cinders for inspiration. And
Cinders, with a flash of intelligence that proved him more than beast, if
less than human, lowered his queer little muzzle and licked his
mistress's face.

That roused her. She stretched out her arms with a vague, sleepy murmur,
smiled, opened her eyes.

"Oh, Trevor!" she said. "You!"

He stooped over her. "Chris, is anything the matter?"

She looked at him. "I don't know," she said slowly. "I forget."

"Po