ily pew alone, and
was the source of much amusement and delight to the smart inhabitants of
the outer world.

"Isn't she just too sweet, Cis?" whispered Miss Lutworth into Mrs.
Cricklander's ear. "Can't we get Mr. Derringham to take us over there
this afternoon?"

But when the subject was broached later at luncheon by his hostess, John
Derringham threw cold water upon the idea. He had stayed behind for a
few minutes to renew his acquaintance with the ancient lady, and had
given her his arm down the short church path, and placed her with
extreme deference in the Shetland pony shay, to the absolute enchantment
of Miss Lutworth, who, with Lord Freynault, stood upon the mound of an
old forgotten grave, the better to see. It was in the earlier days of
motor-cars, and Mrs. Cricklander's fine open Charron created the
greatest excitement as it waited by the lych-gate. The two Shetlands
cocked their ears and showed various signs of nervous interest, and
William had all he could do to hold the minute creatures. But Miss La
Sarthe behaved with unimpaired dignity, never once glancing in the
direction of the great green monster. She got in, assisted by the
respectful churchwarden, and allowed John Derringham to wrap the rug
round her knees, and then carefully adjusted the ring of her
turquoise-studded whip handle.

"Good day, Goddard," she said with benign condescension to the
churchwarden. "And see that Betsy Hodges' child with the whooping-cough
gets some of Hester's syrup and is not brought to church again next
Sunday." And she nodded a gracious dismissal. Then, turning to John
Derringham, she gave him two fingers, while she said with some show of
haughty friendliness: "My sister and I will be very pleased to see you
if you are staying in this neighborhood, Mr. Derringham, and care to
take tea with us one day."

"I shall be more than delighted," he replied, as he bowed with homage
and stood aside, because William's face betrayed his anxiety over the
fidgety ponies.

Miss La Sarthe turned her head with its pork-pie hat and floating veil,
and said with superb tranquillity, "You may drive on now, William." And
they rolled off between a lane of respectful, curtseying rustics.

Mrs. Cricklander and Lady Maulevrier had already entered the motor and
were surveying the scene with amused interest, while Miss Lutworth and
Lord Freynault, chaperoned by Arabella Clinker, were preparing to walk.
It was not more than a mile across the