n't see any of it, did you?"

Scott tried not to laugh. "Your sister?" he asked.

Billy nodded affirmation. "She ain't a bad urchin," he observed, "as
sisters go. We're staying here along with the de Vignes. Ever met 'em?
Lady Grace is a holy terror. Her husband is a horrible stuck-up bore of
an Anglo-Indian,--thinks himself everybody, and tells the most awful
howlers. Rose--that's the daughter--is by way of being very beautiful.
There she goes now; see? That golden-haired girl in red! She's another of
your beastly star skaters. I'll bet she'll have that big bounder cutting
capers with her before the day's out."

"Think so?" said Scott.

Billy nodded again. "I suppose he's a prince at least. My word, doesn't
he fancy himself? Look at that now? Side--sheer side!"

The skater under discussion had just executed a most intricate figure not
far from them. Having accomplished it with that unerring and somewhat
blatant confidence that so revolted Billy's schoolboy soul, he
straightened his tall figure, and darted in a straight line for the end
of the rink above which they stood. His hands were in his pockets. His
bearing was superb. He described a complete circle below them before he
brought himself to a stand. Then he lifted his dark arrogant face. He
wore a short clipped moustache which by no means hid the strength of a
well-modelled though slightly sneering mouth. His eyes were somewhat
deeply set, and shone extraordinarily blue under straight black brows
that met. The man's whole expression was one of dominant self-assertion.
He bore himself like a king.

"Well, Stumpy," he said, "where's Isabel?"

Scott's companion jumped, and beat a swift retreat. Scott smiled a little
as he made reply.

"I have been up to see her. She will be out presently. Biddy had to give
her a sleeping-draught last night."

"Damn!" said the other in a fierce undertone. "Did she call you first?"

"No."

"Then why the devil didn't she? I shall sack that woman. Isabel hasn't a
chance to get well with a mischievous old hag like that always with her."

"I think Isabel would probably die without her," Stumpy responded in his
quiet voice which presented a vivid contrast to his brother's stormy
utterance. "And Biddy would probably die too--if she consented to go,
which I doubt."

"Oh, damn Biddy! The sooner she dies the better. She's nothing but a
perpetual nuisance. What is Isabel like this morning?"

Scott hesitated, and his brother frown