re the fact that he was my social
inferior, but he reminded me of it in a way it was impossible to
overlook, and showed me that he deeply resented what he evidently looked
upon as a somewhat impertinent condescension on my part.

"The theories, my dear Trix, which you set forth in the moonlight under
the lime trees, simply won't hold water. For your own sake I advise you
to abandon them forthwith. Blood will always tell; and sooner or later,
if we attempt intimacy with those not of our own station in life, we
shall get a glimpse of the hairy hoof. I know the theories sound all
right, and quite beautifully Christian--as set forth in the
moonlight,--but they don't work in this twentieth century, as I have
found to my cost. You had better make up your mind to that fact before
you, too, get a slap in the face. I assure you you don't feel like
turning the other cheek. However, that will do. But as it was mainly
through following out your theories and advice that I found my pride not
only in the mud, but rubbed rather heavily in it, I thought you might as
well have a word of warning. Please now consider the matter closed, and
never make the smallest reference to that rather idiotic conversation.

"Doctor Hilary was over here again yesterday. He enquired after you, and
asked to be very kindly remembered to you. I should like Doctor Hilary to
attend me in any illness. He gives one such a feeling of strength and
reliance. There's absolutely no humbug about him.

"Much love, my dear Trix,
"Yours affectionately,
"Pia Di Donatello."

Trix read the letter through very carefully, and then dropped it on her
lap.

"It wasn't Doctor Hilary!" she ejaculated. "So who on earth was it?"

She sat gazing through the opening of the summer-house towards the
garden. It was the oddest _puzzle_ she had ever encountered. Who on earth
could it have been? And why--since it wasn't Doctor Hilary--had Pia
jumped to the conclusion that she--Trix--knew who it was?

It wasn't Mr. Danver, that was very certain. "Social inferior" put that
fact out of the question. But then, what social inferior had been mixed
up in the business? Or--Trix's brain leapt from point to point--had Pia's
trouble nothing whatever to do with the mad business at the Hall? Had she
and Pia simply been playing a quite amazing game of cross-purposes