ece
of his"--here he tapped his son playfully on the skull--"so that when
we two _do_ get talking together, we both find it so fascinating that
we lose all count of time. I've had quite a rush to get here, though I
see Morgan has raced me. I suppose that, at my age, I mustn't
expect----"

"To keep pace with the youngsters."

Margaret finished the sentence for him in playful anticipation of his
platitudinarianism. Archibald took her in his arms and kissed her on
the forehead, with a "No harm at my age, my dear," after which he
laughed gleefully, and proceeded to kiss Diana on the lips, adding:
"No harm at _your_ age, my dear."

"I'm thirteen, and I shall really not allow that sort of thing any
more," said Diana, severely.

"Not from me--your sweetheart!" exclaimed Archibald. "Ah! I
understand," he went on. "It's the grown-up frock."

She was in a shaped dress to-day, but he had recalled her as she was
in her poke-bonnet days, when she had been wont to accept the same
kind of salutation without demur. It did not seem so very long ago
since he had seen her bare-kneed, in short, crimson skirts and all
sorts of fantastic caps and brilliant turbans; and he now reminded her
of the fact, undeterred by the haughtiness of her mien and the
arrogantly rippling masses of golden-brown hair, just a shade darker
than Margaret's.

She gave him a withering glance that asked how he dared!

"Perhaps it's not the frock. It's the poem in the 'Pleiad.' Morgan has
turned her head," recommenced Archibald.

"Morgan, take me down, please," said Diana, majestically ignoring her
tormentor, who thereupon offered his arm to Mrs. Medhurst, and
Margaret and her father brought up the rear.

But when they came to take their seats, they somehow got mixed up
again, so that Morgan found himself next to Margaret, whilst Diana and
Archibald sat opposite. Morgan had more than a suspicion that this was
the result of adroit manoeuvring on Diana's part. Very soon, however,
there arose such a clattering dispute between that young lady and her
neighbour, that Morgan could not talk to his, which made him rather
angry. Anyhow, it was impossible not to be amused after a while by the
altercation, for Diana's tongue was ready and brisk and attacking.
Margaret was a far less militant character, and would never strike,
were there the slightest chance of wounding. Diana's aim was always to
wound, and to wound deeply, provided it was some dear friend she was
pi