ucy ring.

"I like that," said Gracie, enchanted.

He laughed. "Yes, it's pretty, isn't it? It's--Avery without the Aunt."

He began to elaborate the tune, accompanying it with his left hand, to
Gracie's huge delight, "Here we come into a minor key," he said, speaking
obviously and exclusively to Gracie; "this is Avery when she is cross and
inclined to be down on a fellow. And here we begin to get a little
excited and breathless; this is Avery in a tantrum, getting angrier and
angrier every moment." He hammered out his impertinent little melody with
fevered energy, protest from Gracie notwithstanding. "No, you've never
seen her in a tantrum of course. Thank your lucky stars you haven't! It's
an awful sight, take my word for it! She calls you a brute and nearly
knocks you down with a horsewhip." The music became very descriptive at
this point; then gradually returned to the original refrain, somewhat
amplified and embellished. "This is Avery in her everyday mood--sweet and
kind and reasonable,--the Avery we all know and love--with just a hint
of what the French call _'diablerie'_ to make her--_tout-a-fait
adorable_."

He cast his eyes up at the ceiling, and then, releasing Gracie's hand,
brought his impromptu to a close with a few soft chords.

"Here endeth the Avery Symphony!" he declared, swinging round again on
the music-stool. "I could show you another Avery, but she is not on view
to everybody. It's quite possible that she has never seen herself yet."

He got up with the words, tweaked Gracie's hair, caressed Jeanie's, and
strolled across to the fire beside which Avery sat with her work.

"It's awfully kind of you to tolerate me like this," he said.

"Isn't it?" said Avery, without raising her eyes.

He looked down at her, an odd gleam in his own that came and went like a
leaping flame.

"You suffer fools gladly, don't you?" he said, a queer inflection that
was half a challenge in his voice.

She frowned very slightly above her stocking. "Not particularly," she
said.

"You bear with them then?" Piers tone was insistent.

She paused as though considering her reply. "I generally try to avoid
them," she said finally.

"You keep aloof--and darn stockings," suggested Piers.

"And listen to your music," said Avery.

"Do you like my music?" He shot the question at her imperiously.

Avery nodded.

"Really? You do really?" There was boyish eagerness about him now. He
leaned towards her, his brown face a