get lost; we just chose that
road.... Not a bit, it was good sport. We're having luncheon together,
here, and then I suppose we will play billiards until the rain stops.
Tell Flavia not to worry; we'll get home by dinner-time, and we're
enjoying ourselves.... Not wet, just splashed. Mr. Gerard spoiled a
handkerchief drying me, that's all the damage. Good-by."

She reappeared on the threshold, complacently satisfied. She had removed
her hood and veils, shaken her ruddy hair into becoming disorder, and
knew herself at her best.

"You are enjoying yourself, aren't you?" she demanded.

"Certainly," Gerard responded, without enthusiasm.

"Why not come in, then? Which do you like most to commence a
luncheon----Blue Points or little clams? Corrie and I quarrel over that
every time we are out together. He is as obstinate as, as--Corrie!"

"Clams," said he, at a venture. He had a vague recollection of seeing
Corrie dismiss oysters with scorn, and he felt viciously contrary.

"Why, so do I," agreed Isabel winningly. "Let us order some."

One cannot be disagreeable to a young girl under one's care, who also
is in a sense one's hostess. The luncheon was sufficiently gay. The rain
fell incessantly, beating against the diamond-paned windows, gurgling
down eaves and gutter-ways.

"We should have sailed home in the _Dear Me_," Isabel declared. "I am
sure there is enough water on the roads. Why did we not think of it?"

She detached a chrysanthemum petal from the vase of blossoms central on
the table, and dropped it into her finger-bowl, watching the agitation
of a diminutive scarlet-and-black beetle perched upon the sinking leaf.

"An execution?" Gerard inquired.

She raised her eyes, pouting prettily, and nodded.

"I hate those bugs," she explained. "Ugly animals! We put them in and
wager a box of bon-bons on how long they last. If it is still alive at
the end of five minutes, I lose. If it is drowned, I win."

"Does Corrie play that game with you?"

"N'no. Corrie doesn't like it. He will step off of a sidewalk into the
mud to avoid treading on a cricket. Do you suppose I never play with any
one except my cousin? Will you try this wager? _You're_ not silly?"

"I will, if I may. If that lady-bug is alive five minutes from now, I
win? No other conditions?"

"None," gleefully. "Take your watch. You'll lose, he's weakening now."

Gerard leaned across, lifted the struggling beetle upon his finger-tip,
and restored it to