shake. Slowly,
but with obvious unwillingness, she turned her head. She looked straight
into the eyes of the man who still lingered.

"Good afternoon, Miss Thorpe-Hatton," he said pleasantly. "I am sorry to
have troubled you."

Her lips moved, but she said nothing. She half inclined her head. The
door was softly closed.

CHAPTER IV

BEATING HER WINGS

Never was a young man more pleased with himself than Stephen Hurd, on
the night he dined at Thorpe-Hatton. He had shot well all day, and been
accepted with the utmost cordiality by the rest of the party. At dinner
time, his hostess had placed him on her left hand, and though it was
true she had not much to say to him, it was equally obvious that her
duties were sufficient to account for her divided attention. He was
quite willing to be ignored by the lady on his other side--a little
elderly, and noted throughout the country for her husband-hunting
proclivities. He recognized the fact that, apart from the personal side
of the question, he could scarcely hope to be of any interest to her.
The novelty of the situation, Wilhelmina's occasional remarks, and a
dinner such as he had never tasted before were sufficient to keep him
interested. For the rest he was content to twirl his moustache, of which
he was inordinately proud, and lean back in his chair with the
comfortable reflection that he was the first of his family to be offered
the complete hospitality of Thorpe-Hatton.

Towards the close of dinner, his hostess leaned towards him.

"Have you seen or heard anything of a young man named Macheson in the
village?" she asked.

"I have seen him once or twice," he answered. "Here on a missionary
expedition or something of the sort, I believe."

"Has he made any attempt to hold a meeting?" she asked.

"Not that I have heard of," he replied. "He has been talking to some of
the people, though. I saw him with old Gullimore yesterday."

"That reminds me," she remarked, "is it true that Gullimore has had
trouble with his daughter?"

"I believe so," young Hurd admitted, looking downwards at his plate.

"The man was to blame for letting her leave the place," Wilhelmina
declared, in cold, measured tones. "A pretty girl, I remember, but very
vain, and a fool, of course. But about this young fellow Macheson. Do
you know who he is, and where he came from?"

Stephen Hurd shook his head.

"I'm afraid I don't," he said doubtfully. "He belongs to some sort of
brother