ving little thing."

"Except when she is jealous," said Lady Barnes, with significance. "I
told you she has inherited more than her eyes."

Mrs. French rose. She was determined not to discuss her hostess any
more, and she walked over to the bow window as though to look at the
prospects of the weather, which had threatened rain. But Roger's mother
was not to be repressed. Resentment and antagonism, nurtured on a
hundred small incidents and trifling jars, and, to begin with, a matter
of temperament, had come at last to speech. And in this charming New
Englander, the wife of Roger's best friend, sympathetic, tender, with a
touch in her of the nun and the saint, Lady Barnes could not help trying
to find a supporter. She was a much weaker person than her square build
and her double chin would have led the bystander to suppose; and her
feelings had been hurt.

So that when Mrs. French returned to say that the sun seemed to be
coming out, her companion, without heeding, went on, with emotion: "It's
my son I am thinking of, Mrs. French. I know you're safe, and that Roger
depends upon Mr. French more than upon anyone else in the world, so I
can't help just saying a word to you about my anxiety. You know, when
Roger married, I don't think he was much in love--in fact, I'm sure he
wasn't. But now--it's quite different. Roger has a very soft heart, and
he's very domestic. He was always the best of sons to me, and as soon as
he was married he became the best of husbands. He's devoted to Daphne
now, and you see how he adores the child. But the fact is, there's a
person in this neighbourhood" (Lady Barnes lowered her voice and looked
round her)--"I only knew it for certain this morning--who ... well, who
might make trouble. And Daphne's temper is so passionate and
uncontrolled that----"

"Dear Lady Barnes, please don't tell me any secrets!" Elsie French
implored, and laid a restraining hand on the mother's arm, ready,
indeed, to take up her work and fly. But Lady Barnes's chair stood
between her and the door, and the occupant of it was substantial.

Laura Barnes hesitated, and in the pause two persons appeared upon the
garden path outside, coming towards the open windows of the
drawing-room. One was Mrs. Roger Barnes; the other was a man, remarkably
tall and slender, with a stoop like that of an overgrown schoolboy,
silky dark hair and moustache, and pale gray eyes.

"Dr. Lelius!" said Elsie, in astonishment. "Was Daphne expecti