e taken
lightly, but a strenuous endeavour: the world was a battlefield (this
one realised more particularly when Mary forgot for a page or so to take
her foot off the pedal); each one of us had a mission to perform, a duty
to do, a function to fulfil.

Meanwhile, James was trying to make conversation with Mrs. Clibborn.

"How well Mary plays!"

"D'you think so? I can't bear amateurs. I wish they wouldn't play."

James looked at Mrs. Clibborn quickly. It rather surprised him that she,
the very silliest woman he had ever known, should say the only sensible
things he had heard that day. Nor could he forget that she had done her
best to prevent his engagement.

"I think you're a very wonderful woman," he said.

"Oh, Jamie!"

Mrs. Clibborn smiled and sighed, slipping forward her hand for him to
take; but James was too preoccupied to notice the movement.

"I'm beginning to think you really like me," murmured Mrs. Clibborn,
cooing like an amorous dove.

Then James was invited to sing, and refused.

"Please do, Jamie!" cried Mary, smiling. "For my sake. You used to sing
so nicely!"

He still tried to excuse himself, but finding everyone insistent, went
at last, with very bad grace, to the piano. He not only sang badly, but
knew it, and was irritated that he should be forced to make a fool of
himself. Mr. Dryland sang badly, but perfectly satisfied with himself,
needed no pressing when his turn came. He made a speciality of old
English songs, and thundered out in his most ecclesiastical manner a
jovial ditty entitled, "Down Among the Dead Men."

The afternoon was concluded by an adjournment to the dining-room to play
bagatelle, the most inane of games, to which the billiard-player goes
with contempt, changed quickly to wrath when he cannot put the balls
into absurd little holes. Mary was an adept, and took pleasure in
showing James how the thing should be done. He noticed that she and the
curate managed the whole affair between them, arranging partners and
advising freely. Mrs. Clibborn alone refused to play, saying frankly it
was too idiotic a pastime.

At last the party broke up, and in a group bade their farewells.

"I'll walk home with you, Mary, if you don't mind," said James, "and
smoke a pipe."

Mary suddenly became radiant, and Colonel Parsons gave her a happy
little smile and a friendly nod.... At last James had his opportunity.
He lingered while Mary gathered together her music, and waited again to