g the inherited temperament run away with you at this
moment," she reflected aloud--her quiet scrutiny almost abstracted. "It
was foolish to say that."

He had known it was foolish two seconds after the words had left his
lips. But a temper which has been allowed to leap hedges, unchecked
throughout life, is in peril of forming a habit of taking them even at
such times as a leap may land its owner in a ditch. This last was what
her interested eyes were obviously saying. It suited him best at the
moment to try to laugh.

"Don't look at me like that," he threw off. "As if you were calculating
that two and two make four."

"No prejudice of mine can induce them to make five or six--or three and
a half," she said. "No prejudice of mine--or of yours."

The two and two she was calculating with were the likelihoods and
unlikelihoods of the inherited temperament, and the practical powers she
could absolutely count on if difficulty arose with regard to Rosy.

He guessed at this, and began to make calculations himself.

But there was no further conversation for them, as they were obliged
to rise to their feet to receive visitors. Lady Alanby of Dole and Sir
Thomas, her grandson, were being brought out of the house to them by
Rosalie.

He went forward to meet them--his manner that of the graceful host. Lady
Alanby, having been welcomed by him, and led to the most comfortable,
tree-shaded chair, found his bearing so elegantly chastened that she
gazed at him with private curiosity. To her far-seeing and highly
experienced old mind it seemed the bearing of a man who was "up to
something." What special thing did he chance to be "up to"? His glance
certainly lurked after Miss Vanderpoel oddly. Was he falling in unholy
love with the girl, under his stupid little wife's very nose?

She could not, however, give her undivided attention to him, as she
wished to keep her eye on her grandson and--outrageously enough fit
happened that just as tea was brought out and Tommy was beginning to
cheer up and quite come out a little under the spur of the activities of
handing bread and butter and cress sandwiches, who should appear but the
two Lithcom girls, escorted by their aunt, Mrs. Manners, with whom they
lived. As they were orphans without money, if the Manners, who were
rather well off, had not taken them in, they would have had to go to the
workhouse, or into genteel amateur shops, as they were not clever enough
for governesses.

Mar