Jerry, I think, must have stood looking down at her wistfully. I
cannot believe that the psychology of sex made any matter here. Youth
merely responded wordlessly to youth. Had she been a boy it would have
been the same. But the girl was clever.

"I think I will," she said gayly. "It looks very pretty from out
here."

"I--I can't invite you," said Jerry. "I should like to, but I--I
can't."

"I could come without being invited," she laughed.

"But you wouldn't, would you?"

"I might. I didn't hurt you, did I?"

"No," he laughed.

"Then I don't see what harm it would do. I'm coming."

No reply.

"I'm coming tomorrow."

No reply. This was really stoical of Jerry.

"And Jerry--" she called.

"Yes, Una--"

"I think you're--you're _sweet_."

There was a rustle among the leaves and she was gone.

Thus did the serpent enter our garden.

CHAPTER V

THE MINX RETURNS

That afternoon when Jerry returned to the Manor he gave me a
superficial account of the adventure--so superficial and told with
such carelessness that I was not really alarmed. The second
conversation in the evening after dinner aroused my curiosity but not
my suspicion. I was not in the habit of mistrusting Jerry. The
intrusion of the stranger was an accident, not likely to occur again.
It was only after our discussion had taken many turns and curiously
enough had always come back to the pert intruder that I realized that
Jerry's interest had really been aroused. Late at night over our
evening reading the boy made the comments upon the visitor's
appearance, her voice and the texture of her skin. He had been quite
free in his opinions, favorable and unfavorable alike, and it was this
very frankness which had disarmed me. The incident, as far as Jerry's
story went, ended when the visitor crawled under the railing. I am not
sure what motive was in his mind, but the events which followed lend
strong color to the presumption that Jerry believed the girl when she
said that she was coming back and that at the very time he was
speaking to me he intended to meet her when she came.

I had decided to treat the incident lightly, trusting to the
well-ordered habits of Jerry's life and the number of his daily
interests to put the visitor out of his mind. I did not even warn him,
as I should have done had I realized the imminence of danger or the
necessity of keeping to the letter as well as the spirit of John
Benham's definite instruction,