s offered to stay home, she resolutely refused to accept the
sacrifice.

"No," she said; "they are pigs not to ask girls of my age, but you may
go, Boots, and I'll promise not to be unhappy." And she leaned over and
added in a whisper to Eileen: "You see how sensible it is to make
arrangements beforehand! Because somebody, grown-up, might take him away
at this very party. That's the reason why it is best to speak promptly.
Please pass me another peach, Eileen."

"What are you two children whispering about?" inquired Selwyn, glancing
at Eileen.

"Oho!" exclaimed Drina; "you may know before long! May he not, Eileen?
It's about you," she said; "something splendid that somebody is going to
do to you! Isn't it, Eileen?"

Miss Erroll looked smilingly at Selwyn, a gay jest on her lips; but the
sudden clamour of pulses in her throat closed her lips, cutting the
phrase in two, and the same strange fright seized her--an utterly
unreasoning fear of him.

At the same moment Mrs. Gerard gave the rising signal, and Selwyn was
swept away in the rushing herd of children, out on to the veranda, where
for a while he smoked and drew pictures for the younger Gerards. Later,
some of the children were packed off for a nap; Billy with his assorted
puppies went away with Drina and Boots, ever hopeful of a fox or rabbit;
Nina Gerard curled herself up in a hammock, and Selwyn seated himself
beside her, an uncut magazine on his knees. Eileen had disappeared.

For a while Nina swung there in silence, her pretty eyes fixed on her
brother. He had nearly finished cutting the leaves of the magazine
before she spoke, mentioning the fact of Rosamund Fane's arrival at the
Minsters' house, Brookminster.

The slightest frown gathered and passed from her brother's sun-bronzed
forehead, but he made no comment.

"Mr. Neergard is a guest, too," she observed.

"What?" exclaimed Selwyn, in disgust.

"Yes; he came ashore with the Fanes."

Selwyn flushed a little but went on cutting the pages of the magazine.
When he had finished he flattened the pages between both covers, and
said, without raising his eyes:

"I'm sorry that crowd is to be in evidence."

"They always are and always will be," smiled his sister.

He looked up at her: "Do you mean that anybody _else_ is a guest at
Brookminster?"

"Yes, Phil."

"Alixe?"

"Yes."

He looked down at the book on his knees and began to furrow the pages
absently.

"Phil," she said, "have you heard