ed
Helen Brabazon's uncle, Mr. Burnaby.

But Blanche Farrow had been firm. Sir Lyon must of course be on her own
right hand, Mr. Burnaby on her left. It is always difficult to arrange a
party of four ladies and five men. She had suggested more than one other
pleasant woman to make up the party to ten, but Varick had had some
objection to each--the objection usually taking the line that the person
proposed would not "get on" with the Burnabys.

Blanche again wondered why their host had been so determined to have
Helen Brabazon at his first house-party, if her coming meant the
inclusion of her tiresome uncle and aunt? And then she felt a little
ashamed of herself. One of the best points about Lionel Varick was his
sense of gratitude to anyone who had done him a good turn. Gratitude had
been the foundation of their own now many-year-long friendship.

The food was so very good, there was so much of it, and doubtless those
who had journeyed down to Wyndfell Hall to-night were all so hungry,
that there was rather less talk going on round the table than might have
been expected. But now and again the hostess caught a fleeting
interchange of words. She heard, for instance, old Miss Burnaby
informing young Donnington that she had been a good deal on the
Continent as a young woman, and had actually spent a year in Austria a
matter of forty years ago.

As the meal went on, Miss Farrow gradually became aware that Bubbles
provided what life and soul there was in the dull party. But for
Bubbles, but for her infectious high spirits and vitality, how very
heavy and stupid the meal they were now ending would have been! She
asked herself, for perhaps the twentieth time in the last three-quarters
of an hour, why her friend had brought together such a curious and
ill-assorted set of people.

At last she looked across at Miss Burnaby, and gradually everyone got
up.

Varick was at the door in a moment, holding it open, and, as they filed
by him, managing to say a word to each of the four ladies. "Bravo,
Bubbles!" Blanche heard him whisper. "You're earning your Christmas
present right royally!" and the girl's eyes flashed up into her host's
with a mischievous, not over-friendly glance. Miss Farrow was aware that
Bubbles did not much care for Lionel Varick. She rather wondered why.
But she was far too shrewd not to know that there's no accounting either
for likings or dislikings where a man and a woman are concerned.

As she shepherde