," said
Harold in reproof. "It's 'How they Brought the Good News from Ghent to
Aix.'"

Here Joan intervened disdainfully.

"But that's not Browning!"

Lady Splay looked perplexed.

"Are you sure, Joan?"

Joan tossed her head.

"Of course, it's Browning all right," she explained, "but it's not
Browning if you understand me."

The explanation left that company mystified. Harold Jupp shook his head
mournfully at Joan, and tapped his forehead.

"Excessive study, Joan, has turned that little head. The moment I saw
you in sandals I said to myself, 'Joan couldn't take the hill.'"

Joan wrinkled her nose, and made a grimace at him. What rejoinder she
would have made no one was to know. For Mr. Albany Todd finding himself
unduly neglected burst into the conversation with a complete
irrelevance.

"I am so happy. I shot a stag last autumn."

Both Dennis Brown and Harold Jupp turned to the great conversationalist
with real interest.

"How many stone?" asked Dennis.

"I used a rifle," replied Mr. Albany Todd coldly. He did not like to be
made fun of; and suddenly a ripple of clear laughter broke deliciously
from Joan.

Lady Splay looked agitatedly around for succour. Oh, what a mistake she
had made in bringing Mr. Albany Todd into the midst of these ribald
young people. And after all--she had to admit it ruefully, he was a bit
of a Plater. Dennis Brown, however, hurried to the rescue. He came
across the room to Joan, and sat down at her side.

"I haven't had a word with you, Joan."

"No," she answered.

"And how's the little book going on? Do tell me! I won't laugh, upon my
word."

Joan herself tried not to. "Oh, pig, pig!" she exclaimed, but she got no
further in her anathema for Miranda drew up a stool, and sat in
admiration before her.

"Yes, do tell us," she pleaded. "It's all so wonderful."

Miranda, however, was never to hear. Mr. Albany Todd leaned forward with
an upraised forefinger, and a smile of keen discernment.

"You are writing a book, Miss Whitworth," he said, as if he had
discovered the truth by his own intuition, and expected her to deny the
impeachment. "Ah, but you are! And I see that you _can_ write one."

"Now, how?" asked Harold Jupp.

Mr. Albany Todd waved the question aside. "The moment I entered the
hall, and saw Miss Whitworth, I said to myself, 'There's a book there!'
Yes, I said that. I knew it! I know women."

Mr. Albany Todd closed his eyelids, and peeped out through th