e of her niece's
letter, might be attributed the halting of the long, black car on the
road to the north. "You have no single word of welcome, then!" he
reproached abruptly and impatiently brushed his hair back from his
forehead with a hand that shook a little.

From the north came the clatter of a motorcycle.

Diane held out her hand.

"Let us make a mutual compact!" she exclaimed frankly. "I have
overstrained your patience--you have startled me. Let us both forgive.
In a sense we have neither of us kept strictly to the letter of our
agreement."

Ronador bent with deference over the girl's outstretched hand and
brushed it lightly with his lips, unconscious that her face had grown
very white and troubled. Nor in his impetuous relief was he aware that
other eyes had witnessed the eloquent tableau and that Aunt Agatha had
arrived in camp with an escort who quietly deposited an armful of
dripping lilies upon the camp table and oddly enough made no effort to
retire.

When at length, conscious of the electric constraint of the atmosphere,
Ronador wheeled uncomfortably and met Philip's level glance, he stared
and reddened, hot insolent anger in the flash of his eyes and the curl
of his lips.

"Dear me!" faltered Aunt Agatha, guiltily conscious of the letter, "I
am surprised, I am indeed! Who ever would have thought of seeing you
here, Prince, among the trees and--and the ground doves and--and all
the lilies!" The unfortunate lady, convinced by now that Ronador's
apparent resentment concerned, in some inexplicable way, her escort,
herself and the lilies, glanced beseechingly about her. "And what with
the lilies," she burst forth desperately in apology for the inopportune
arrival of herself and her escort, "what with the lilies, Prince, and
the water so wet--though, dear me! it was not to be wondered at, of
course--growing wild in the water that way--and only one gown and the
hand bag--though to be sure I can't wear the hand bag, and wouldn't if
I could---Mr. Poynter, with his usual courtesy was good enough to carry
the lilies into camp when I asked him."

"Mr. Poynter was undoubtedly very good, Aunt Agatha," said Diane
quietly, "but the lilies scarcely require any further attention."

Still Mr. Poynter did not stir.

"I regret exceedingly," he said formally to Diane, "that I am unable to
avail myself of your cordial permission to retire. Unfortunately, I
have urgent business with Prince Ronador. Indeed, I