ified in
the most unmistakable fashion that he wanted nothing more to do with
her, and by the time the dinner-bell sounded, Diana had herself well in
hand--so well that she was even able to ask in tones of quite casual
interest if any one knew who were the strangers in church that morning?

"Yes, Mowbray told me," replied the Rector. "They are the new people
who have taken Red Gables--that pretty little place on the Woodway
Road. The girl is Adrienne de Gervais, the actress, and the elderly
lady is a Mrs. Adams, her chaperon."

"Oh, then that's why her face seemed so familiar!" exclaimed Diana, a
light breaking in upon her. "I mean Miss de Gervais'--not the
chaperon's. Of course I must have seen her picture in the illustrated
papers dozens of times."

"And the man who was with them is Max Errington, who writes nearly all
the plays in which she takes part," chimed in Joan. "He's supposed to
be in love with her. That piece of information I acquired from Mrs.
Mowbray."

"I detest Mrs. Mowbray," said Diana, with sudden viciousness. "She's
the sort of person who has nothing whatever to talk about and spends
hours doing it."

The others laughed.

"She's rather a gas-bag, I must admit," acknowledged Stair. "But, you
know, a country doctor's wife is usually the emporium for all the local
gossip. It's expected of her."

"Then I'm sure Mrs. Mowbray will never disappoint any one. She fully
comes up to expectations," observed Diana grimly.

"I suppose we shall have to call on these new people at Red Gables,
Dad?" asked Joan, after a brief interval.

Diana bent her head suddenly over her plate to hide the scarlet flush
which flew into her cheeks at the suggestion. She would _not_ call
upon them--a thousand times no! Max Errington had shown her very
distinctly in what estimation he held the honour of her friendship, and
he should never have the chance of believing she had tried to thrust it
on him.

"Well"--the Rector was replying leisurely to Joan's inquiry--"I
understand they are only going to be at Red Gables now and then--when
Miss de Gervais wants a rest from her professional work, I expect. But
still, as they have come to our church and are strangers in the
district, it would perhaps be neighbourly to call, wouldn't it?"

"Can't you call on them, Pobs?" suggested Diana, "A sort of 'rectorial'
visit, you know. That would surely be sufficient."

The Sector hesitated.

"I don't know about that, Di.