hint an offer of assistance, you scent a
grievance."

Rose was looking very hard at me, and I felt vexed with the man for
placing me in such an awkward position. And to make matters worse the
consciousness of Rose's stare upset my self-possession, and it was she
who spoke first.

"If Mr. Derwent would join us I think it would be very nice," she said,
so demurely that I stared at her in my turn, "and it would be
an--education for him. And he certainly could carry the sandwiches and
our wraps, which are a bit of a nuisance."

What could I say? I was annoyed, but I could only mutter something
incoherent which my companions construed into an assent, and Rose
instructed the Cynic to be at the cottage at ten o'clock in the morning.

To add to my confusion, Mother Hubbard was manifestly excited when we
went in to tea, and she telegraphed all sorts of meaning messages to
Rose when the Cynic's back was turned. I was cross with myself for
becoming embarrassed, but I hate to be placed in a false position.
What on earth is the Cynic to me?

I thought he was rather subdued and not quite as satirical as usual,
but he was obviously very much taken with Rose, who was quite brilliant
in her cuts and thrusts. She soon took the Cynic's measure, and I saw
how keenly he enjoyed the encounter. I left them to it very largely,
much to the disappointment of Mother Hubbard, who developed a series of
short, admonitory coughs, and pressed my foot beneath the table a score
of times in a vain effort to induce me to shine. It was not my "night
out," and her laudable endeavours simply resulted in a sore foot--the
injured member being mine!

We accompanied him a little way along the road, and when we left him
Rose turned upon me:

"Now 'fess!" she said.

"Rose, don't be a goose!" I replied, whilst the stupid colour flooded
my face; "there is nothing to confess. I have seen Mr. Derwent only
twice before in my life. He is little more than a stranger to me."

"A remarkable circumstance, however, my dear Grace, is that you have
never mentioned his name in your rather voluminous correspondence, and
yet you seem to be on familiar and even friendly terms; and our good
friend Mother Hubbard----"

"Mother Hubbard, Rose, is romantic. The moment the man turned up at
Easter she designated him as my lover. Let me be quite candid with
you. If I was not so constituted that blushing comes as naturally to
me as to a ripe cherry you would have