ant forward
with her elbows on her knees and gazed absently at the brown head.

"What have you been doing, Nevil, darling?"

"I? Not I, but Charlotte. Don't you know by this time, Patricia, I'm
only a scapegoat for the autocrat of the nursery."

"He let Charlotte nibble a cigarette," explained Renata.

"One of my very best."

"It might have been one of his worst, Rennie," suggested Patricia
consolingly.

"They are all 'worst' for Charlotte," cried Renata springing up. "I
must go and put up my flowers or they'll be here before I'm ready."

She flitted away in the direction of the house. Her husband looked
after her with mute sorrow at his own incapacity to melt from vision
in that intangible manner--from situations that were too difficult.

He glanced at his little companion, who was making attempts to tie the
dachshund's ears round his own neck.

"You won't be able to treat Christopher that way, Patricia," he said
contemplatively, "but it will be jolly for you to have a companion of
your own age, won't it?"

"Perhaps he won't like me."

"He is quite likely to like you."

"Oh, yes, at first, because I'll make him," she returned with engaging
candour, but then her mouth drooped a little, "but when he knows what
I'm really like, he won't."

Nevil examined another cigarette carefully to see it had not been
nibbled. He was really very fond of his little sister-in-law though
occasionally at a loss how to deal with her strange moods.

"Well, we are all very fond of you, anyway, child," he said easily;
"as for the temper, you can't really help it, you know, and you'll
grow out of it. I'm sure you try to, my dear."

"But I don't try," cried poor Patricia wildly, "I haven't time, I
don't know anything about it till it's there and then it's too late. I
might just as well have flung that plate at Charlotte as at you
to-day. I wonder Renata lets me go in the nursery."

"No, no. You wouldn't be angry with a baby."

She turned to him with a sort of exasperated patience. "That's just
it. You don't any of you understand. It does not make any difference,
why, who or where. It just comes. I _can't_ help it." She kicked her
heel on the gravel fiercely.

"Poor little Patricia," said Nevil gently. "I can only say we all love
you just the same, and I believe you'll grow out of it." She changed
suddenly and flung herself into his arms in a wild transport of tears
and childish abandonment. He was in no wise taken aback an