Patsy," said her partner, in a low voice, "as ever, you are superb in
defeat as in victory. Superb, unapproachable, wonderful."

"Anything else, Vic?" inquired Patsy, grinning at the youth.

"Oh, a whole lot more, Pat, if you only give me a chance to tell you."

"No time just now," cried Patricia as she reached the others. "Well, you
two deserved to win. You played ripping tennis," she continued, offering
Hugh her hand.

"So did you, Pat. You were at the very top of your form."

"Well, some other day," said Vic. "I think we are improving a bit,
partner. A little more close harmony will do the trick."

"Come away, children," said Mrs. Templeton, calling to them from the
shade at the side of the courts. "You must be very tired and done out.
Why, how hot you look, Patricia."

"Stunning, I should say!" murmured Vic, looking at her with adoring
eyes.

And a truly wonderful picture the girl made, in her dainty muslin
frock, her bold red hair tossed in a splendid aureole about her face.
Care-free, heart-free, as she flashed from her hearty blue eyes her
saucy and bewitching glances at her partner's face, her mother sighed,
thinking that her baby girl was swiftly slipping away from her and
forever into that wider world of womanhood where others would claim her.

In lovely contrast stood her sister, dressed in flannel skirt and
sweater of old gold silk, fair, tall, beautiful, a delicate grace in
every line of her body and a proud, yet gentle strength in every
feature of her face. There dwelt in her deep blue eyes a look of hidden,
mysterious power which had wrought in her mother a certain fear of her
eldest daughter. The mother never quite knew what to expect from Adrien.
Yet, for all, she carried an assured confidence that whatever she might
do, her daughter never would shame the high traditions of her race.

The long shadows from the tall elms lay across the velvet sward of the
Rectory lawn. The heat of the early June day had given place to the cool
air of the evening. The exquisitely delicate colouring from the setting
sun flooded the sky overhead and deepened into blues and purples behind
the elms and the church spire. A deep peace had fallen upon the world
except that from the topmost bough of the tallest elm tree a robin sang,
pouring his very heart out in a song of joyous optimism.

The little group, disposed upon the lawn according to their various
desires, stood and sat looking up at the brave little songster