ly, if I can arrange it," he said. "Good-bye, Mrs. Loring," and
here he altered the phrase to "Shall I come back on Wednesday?" for
his hostess had left the open door.

There was no hesitation, but all too little sentiment, about
Robinette's reply.

"Wednesday, at the latest, are my orders," she answered merrily, and
with the words ringing in his ears Lavendar took his departure.

"Do you remember that this is the afternoon of the garden party at
Revelsmere?" Mrs. de Tracy enquired, coming into the drawing room a
few minutes later, where Mrs. Loring stood by the open window. She
had allowed herself just five minutes of depression, staring out at
the buttercup meadow. How black the rooks looked as they flew about it
and how dreary everything was, now that Lavendar had gone! She was
woman enough to be able to feel inwardly amused at her own absurdity,
when she recognized that the ensuing three days seemed to stretch out
into a limitless expanse of dullness. "The village seemed asleep or
dead now Lubin was away!" Still, after all, it was an occasion for
wearing a pretty frock, and she knew herself well enough to feel sure
that the sight of a few of her fellow-creatures even pretending to
enjoy themselves, would make her volatile spirits rise like the
mercury in a thermometer on a hot day.

Miss Smeardon was to be her companion, as Mrs. de Tracy had a headache
that afternoon and was afraid of the heat, she said. "What heat?"
Robinette had asked innocently, for in spite of the brilliant sunlight
the wind blew from the east, keen as a knife. "I shall take a good
wrap in the carriage in spite of this tropical temperature," she
thought. Carnaby refused point blank to drive with them; he would
bicycle to the party or else not go at all, so it was alone with Miss
Smeardon that Robinette started in the heavy old landau behind the
palsied horse.

Miss Smeardon gave one glance at Mrs. Loring's dress, and Robinette
gave one glance at Miss Smeardon's, each making her own comments.

"That white cloth will go to the cleaner, I suppose, after one
wearing, and as for that thing on her head with lilac wistaria
drooping over the brim, it can't be meant as a covering, or a
protection, either from sun or wind; it's nothing but an ornament!"
Miss Smeardon commented; while to herself Robinette ejaculated,--

"A penwiper, an old, much-used penwiper, is all that Miss Smeardon
resembles in that black rag!"

Carnaby, watching the start at