are
had made in the survey of the castle.

Dare was still in the studio when he entered. Somerset informed the
youth that there was no necessity for his working later that day, unless
to please himself, and proceeded to inspect Dare's achievements thus
far. To his vexation Dare had not plotted three dimensions during the
previous two days. This was not the first time that Dare, either from
incompetence or indolence, had shown his inutility as a house-surveyor
and draughtsman.

'Mr. Dare,' said Somerset, 'I fear you don't suit me well enough to make
it necessary that you should stay after this week.'

Dare removed the cigarette from his lips and bowed. 'If I don't suit,
the sooner I go the better; why wait the week?' he said.

'Well, that's as you like.'

Somerset drew the inkstand towards him, wrote out a cheque for Dare's
services, and handed it across the table.

'I'll not trouble you to-morrow,' said Dare, seeing that the payment
included the week in advance.

'Very well,' replied Somerset. 'Please lock the door when you leave.'
Shaking hands with Dare and wishing him well, he left the room and
descended to the lawn below.

There he contrived to get near Miss Power again, and inquired of her for
Miss De Stancy.

'O! did you not know?' said Paula; 'her father is unwell, and she
preferred staying with him this afternoon.'

'I hoped he might have been here.'

'O no; he never comes out of his house to any party of this sort; it
excites him, and he must not be excited.'

'Poor Sir William!' muttered Somerset.

'No,' said Paula, 'he is grand and historical.'

'That is hardly an orthodox notion for a Puritan,' said Somerset
mischievously.

'I am not a Puritan,' insisted Paula.

The day turned to dusk, and the guests began going in relays to the
dining-hall. When Somerset had taken in two or three ladies to whom
he had been presented, and attended to their wants, which occupied him
three-quarters of an hour, he returned again to the large tent, with
a view to finding Paula and taking his leave. It was now brilliantly
lighted up, and the musicians, who during daylight had been invisible
behind the ash-tree, were ensconced at one end with their harps and
violins. It reminded him that there was to be dancing. The tent had in
the meantime half filled with a new set of young people who had come
expressly for that pastime. Behind the girls gathered numbers of newly
arrived young men with low shoulders and dim