troy. He repeated himself eternally; the same
phrases were always in his mouth. "A fad, a theory, a name for
ignorance." "Don't tell me; it's an insult to my intelligence!"
Durant could have been sorry for him if he had not been so
infinitely sorry for himself.

On Monday morning Frida Tancred was herself again; not her old self,
but the new one that Durant had learned to know and tolerate. She
sought him out after breakfast and seconded the Colonel's
invitation.

"If you could possibly stop, Mr. Durant, I wish you would. I'm
asking a favor. My cousin, Georgie Chatterton, is coming down on
Wednesday to stay. I don't know how long. I've never seen her
before, and she's a young girl."

Frida's voice expressed a certain horror.

"Well, what of that?"

"If there's one thing on earth that I'm afraid of, it's a young
girl. If you could only stay on just to amuse her a little, to help
her through her first week! You see, it'll be so desperately dull
for her if you don't."

He laughed; there was no other way of responding to the _naivete_ of
the request.

"It doesn't really seem fair to ask her when she hasn't an idea--I
can't think why father did it. Perhaps he didn't. It's odd, but I've
noticed that, when anything like this happens, Mrs. Fazakerly is
always at the bottom of it."

Another lurid light on Mrs. Fazakerly!

"Was Mrs. Fazakerly at the bottom of his asking me?"

She smiled. "To tell you the honest truth, she was. Not but what he
is delighted to have you here. I don't know when I've seen him so
happy, so interested in anyone. But, you see, he's fearfully
conservative; he can't bear to take the first step in anything."

He saw. The Colonel might be as conservative as he pleased; but the
old order was changing; Coton Manor was on the eve of a revolution.
He saw it all clearly, that deep-laid plot of Mrs. Fazakerly's. He
had been asked down at her suggestion to keep Frida Tancred out of
the way for the moment, or, better still, forever. He had not risen
to the occasion; his time was up, so Miss Chatterton was to be
invited to take his place. Yet, when he came to think of it, so
simple a scheme, the mere substitution of one cat's paw for another,
hardly did justice to Mrs. Fazakerly's imagination. Was she still
convinced of his dawning passion for Miss Tancred? Had she doubts as
to Miss Tancred's willingness or power to return it? and had she
suggested that he should be pressed to prolong his stay in the