act that I'm just up?" she mocked him. "I assure
you it doesn't matter. The family has just come down."

"But," cried Orde, "I wasn't here until nine o'clock. I thought, of
course, you'd be around. I'm mighty sorry--"

"Oh, la la!" she cried, cutting him short. "What a bother about nothing.
Don't you see--I'm ahead a whole hour of good talk."

"You see, you told me in your note to come early," said Orde.

"I forgot you were one of those dreadful outdoor men. You didn't see any
worms, did you? Next time I'll tell you to come the day after."

Orde was for taking his leave, but this she would not have.

"You must meet my family," she negatived. "For if you're here for so
short a time we want to see something of you. Come right out now."

Orde thereupon followed her down a narrow, dark hall, squeezed between
the stairs and the wall, to a door that opened slantwise into a
dining-room the exact counterpart in shape to the parlour at the other
side of the house. Only in this case the morning sun and more diaphanous
curtains lent an air of brightness, further enhanced by a wire stand of
flowers in the bow-windows.

The centre of the room was occupied by a round table, about which
were grouped several people of different ages. With her back to the
bow-window sat a woman well beyond middle age, but with evidently some
pretensions to youth. She was tall, desiccated, quick in movement. Dark
rings below her eyes attested either a nervous disease, an hysterical
temperament, or both. Immediately at her left sat a boy of about
fourteen years of age, his face a curious contradiction between a
naturally frank and open expression and a growing sullenness. Next him
stood a vacant chair, evidently for Miss Bishop. Opposite lolled a young
man, holding a newspaper in one hand and a coffee cup in the other. He
was very handsome, with a drooping black moustache, dark eyes, under
lashes almost too luxuriant, and a long, oval face, dark in complexion,
and a trifle sardonic in expression. In the VIS-A-VIS to Mrs. Bishop,
Orde was surprised to find his ex-military friend of the street
car. Miss Bishop performed the necessary introductions, which each
acknowledged after his fashion, but with an apparent indifference that
dashed Orde, accustomed to a more Western cordiality. Mrs. Bishop held
out a languidly graceful hand, the boy mumbled a greeting, the young man
nodded lazily over his newspaper. Only General Bishop, recognising him,
arose an