your mature opinion concerning the
tomoya and the Buddhist cross?"

"I know more about a tomboy-a than a tomoya, my saucy friend," observed
Nina, surveying her with disapproval--"and I can be as cross about it as
any Buddhist, too. You are, to express it as pleasantly as possible, a
sight! Child, what on earth have you been doing? There are two smears
on your cheeks!"

"I've been crying," said the girl, with an amused sidelong flutter of
her lids toward Selwyn.

"Crying!" repeated Nina incredulously. Then, disarmed by the serene
frankness of the girl, she added: "A blue-stocking is bad enough, but a
grimy one is impossible. _Allons! Vite_!" she insisted, driving Eileen
before her; "the country is demoralising you. Philip, we're dining
early, so please make your arrangements to conform. Come, Eileen; have
you never before seen Philip Selwyn?"

"I am not sure that I ever have," she replied, with a curious little
smile at Selwyn. Nina had her by the hand, but she dragged back like a
mischievously reluctant child hustled bedward:

"Good-bye," she said, stretching out her hand to Selwyn--"good-bye, my
unfortunate fellow fogy! I go, slumpy, besmudged, but happy; I return,
superficially immaculate--but my stockings will still be blue! . . .
Nina, dear, if you don't stop dragging me I'll pick you up in my
arms!--indeed I will--"

There was a laugh, a smothered cry of protest; and Selwyn was the amused
spectator of his sister suddenly seized and lifted into a pair of
vigorous young arms, and carried into the house by this tall, laughing
girl who, an hour before, had lain there among the cushions, frightened,
unconvinced, clinging instinctively to the last gay rags and tatters of
the childhood which she feared were to be stripped from her for ever.

It was clear starlight when they were ready to depart. Austin had
arrived unexpectedly, and he, Nina, Eileen, and Selwyn were to drive to
Hitherwood House, Lansing and Gerald going in the motor-boat.

There was a brief scene between Drina and Boots--the former fiercely
pointing out the impropriety of a boy like Gerald being invited where
she, Drina, was ignored. But there was no use in Boots offering to
remain and comfort her as Drina had to go to bed, anyway; so she kissed
him good-bye very tearfully, and generously forgave Gerald; and
comforted herself before she retired by putting on one of her mother's
gowns and pinning up her hair and parading before a pier-glass until h