shook the walls. Poor Mr. Withells fled
out by the window, and sat on the step on his carefully-folded
handkerchief, but even so the cold stones penetrated, and he came in
again.

And after "Drake's Drum" it was time to go home.

Jan and Peter walked back through the scented night, Peter carrying her
slippers in a silk bag, for the sternly economical Meg wouldn't hear of
wasting good suede slippers at 22s. 6d. a pair by walking half a mile in
them, no matter how dry it was.

When all the guests had gone, Lady Pen seized Miles by the arm and
implored him to take her outside for a cigarette. "That little Withells
had given her the hump."

Lady Mary said it was bed-time and the servants wanted to lock up. The
Squire and Mr. Pottinger melted away imperceptibly to smoke in peace
elsewhere.

Lady Pen, still holding Miles in an iron grip, pulled him over to the
door, which she shut, led him back, and stood in front of Lady Mary, who
was just going to ring for the servants to shut the windows.

"Wait a minute, Aunt Mary. I've got somethin' to say, and I want to say
it before Miles."

"Oh, don't let us go into all that to-night," Lady Mary implored, "if
what you have to say has anything to do with what you told me before
dinner."

"It has and it hasn't. One thing I've decided is that I've got to tell
the Trents they are liars; and the other thing is that, though I
disapprove with all my strength of the game Miles is playing, I believe
that little girl is square...."

"You see," Lady Pen went on, turning to Miles, "I've repeated things to
Aunt Mary that I heard from the Trents lately--but I heard a different
story at the time--and though I think you, Miles, are throwing yourself
away, I won't be a party to spreadin' lies. Somethin' that _poudree_
woman with the good skin said to-night made me feel a swab----"

"I'm glad you've spoken up like this, Pen," Miles said slowly, "for if
you hadn't, we couldn't have been friends any more. I promised Meg I
wouldn't tell anybody--but I've asked her to marry me ... and though she
isn't over keen, I believe I'll get her to do it some day."

"Isn't over keen?" Lady Mary repeated indignantly. "Why, she ought to be
down on her knees with joy!"

Miles laughed. "She's not a kneeling sort, Aunt Mary. It's I who'll have
to do the kneeling, I can tell you."

Lady Pen was looking straight at her cousin with the beautiful candid
eyes that were so like his own. "Just for curiosity," sh