hall I get the porter, sir, to help open it while you and Mrs. Jardine
have tea?" Barker asked. "I laid tea in the dining-room, Ma'am."

"Yes; let us have it opened at once," said Karen. "But I must be here
when it is opened." She drew her arm from Gregory's and made the tour of
the case. "It is probably something very fragile and that is why it is
packed in such a great box; it cannot itself be so big."

"Barker will begin peeling off the outer husks while we get ready for
tea; we shall have plenty of time," said Gregory. "Get the porter up at
once, Barker. I'm afraid your guardian has an exaggerated idea of the
size of our domain, darling. The present looks as if only baronial halls
could accommodate it."

She glanced up at him while he led her to their room and he knew that
something in his voice struck her; he hadn't been able to control it and
it sounded like ill-temper. Perhaps it was ill-temper. It was with a
feeling of relief, and almost of escape, that he shut the door of the
room upon tidal-waves and put his arms around his wife. "Darling," he
said, "this is really it--at last--our home-coming."

She returned his clasp and kiss with her frank, sweet fervour, though he
saw in her eyes a slight bewilderment. He insisted--he had often during
their travels been her maid--on taking off her hat and shoes for her
before going into his adjoining dressing-room. Karen always protested.
"It is so dear and foolish; I am so used to waiting on myself; I am so
unused to being the fine idle lady." And she protested now, adding, as
he knelt before her, and putting her hand on his head: "And besides, I
believe that in some ways I am stronger than you. It should not be you
to take care of me."

"Stronger? In what ways? Upon my word, Madam!" Gregory exclaimed smiling
up at her, "Do you know that I was one of the best men of my time at
Oxford?"

"I don't mean in body, I mean in feelings, in nerves," said Karen. "It
is more like Tante."

He wondered, while in his little dressing-room he splashed restoringly
in hot water, what she quite did mean. Did she guess at the queer,
morbid moment that had struck at his blissful mood? It was indeed
disconcerting to have her find him like Tante.

"Do you mind," said Karen, when he joined her again, smiling at him and
clasping her hands in playful entreaty, "seeing at once what the present
is before we have tea? I do not know how I could eat tea while I had not
seen it."

"Mind? I'm