And accordingly he entertained them with a harrowing little
poem about a poor child dying of starvation in a garret, and dreaming
of wealthier and happier children enjoying themselves at parties,
which made all the children uncomfortable, and some of the less stolid
ones cry. And then he told them a ghost story, crammed with ingenious
horrors, which followed most of them home to bed.

Mabel listened in burning indignation; she would have liked to stop
him, but grown-up persons were beginning to filter in, and she was
afraid of making anything like a scene by interfering. However, when
he came up blandly after the performance she let him see her opinion
of it.

'Oh, they like to have their flesh creep,' he said with a shrug; 'it's
one of the luxuries of youth.'

'It isn't a wholesome one,' said she; 'but I know you have your own
theories of the proper way to amuse a child.' She felt a revival of
her disgust for the sly treachery he had revealed once before. He gave
her a cold keen glance, and the lines round his mouth tightened for an
instant.

'You haven't forgiven me, then?' he said.

'I can't forget,' she answered in a low voice.

'We both have good memories, it seems,' he retorted with a short
laugh as he held up a curtain for her to pass, and turned away.

It was after supper, and most of the children had been weeded out to
be replaced by children of a larger growth. Mark came up to Mabel as
she stood by the doorway while the musicians were playing the first
few bars of a waltz, and each couple was waiting for some other to
begin before them. 'You promised me a dance,' he said, 'in reward for
my agility as an elephant. Aren't your duties over now?'

'I think everybody knows everybody now, and no one is sitting out,'
said Mabel. 'But really I would rather not dance just yet; I'm a
little tired.' For the Fraeulein was still away with her family in
Germany, and most of the work had fallen upon Mabel, who was feeling
some need of a rest. Mark did not try to persuade her.

'You must be,' he agreed. 'Will you--do you mind sitting this dance
out with me?'

She made no objection, and they were presently sitting together under
the soft light of the ribbed Chinese lanterns in a fernery at the back
of the rooms.

'When we go back,' said Mabel, 'I want to introduce you to a Miss
Torrington, a great admirer of your book. But you don't care for such
things, do you?'

'I wish with all my soul I might never hear of