paper and placing the
little ivory elephant paper-weight upon it.

"Rippin' doubles this morning. You ought to go into the game. Do you
a lot of good."

"I didn't know you played."

"Don't. Watch."

Thomas' gaze was level and steady.

Lord Monckton laughed easily and sought his monocle. He fumbled about
the front of his coat and shirt. "By jove! Lost my glass; wonder I
can see anything."

Outside, on the veranda, the two men could see the cluster of women of
which Kitty was the most animated flower. Voices carried easily.

"Ah--what do you think of these--ah--Americans?" asked Lord Monckton,
as one compatriot to another, leaning toward the desk.

"I think them very kindly, very generous people; at least, those I have
met. Have you not found them so?"

"Quite so. I am enjoying myself immensely." Lord Monckton swung about
in the chair, his back to the veranda.

Thomas loosened his negligee linen-collar.

"Ah, really!" drifted into the room. Lord Monckton sleepily eying
Thomas, only heard the voice; he did not see, as Thomas did, the action
and gesture which accompanied the phrase. Kitty had put something into
her eye, squinted, and twisted an imaginary something a few inches
below her dimpled chin. It was a hoydenish trick, but Kitty had
enacted it for Lord Monckton's benefit. The women shouted with
laughter. Lord Monckton turned in time to see them troop into the
gardens. He turned again to Thomas, to find a grin upon that
gentleman's face.

[Illustration: It was a hoydenish trick.]

"Miss Killigrew is rather an unusual young person," was his comment.

"Uncommon," replied Thomas, scrutinizing the point of his pen.

"For my part, I prefer 'em clinging." Lord Monckton rose.

"Rotter!" breathed Thomas. He rearranged his papers, crackling them
suggestively.

"Picnic this afternoon; going along?" asked Lord Monckton, pausing by
the portieres.

"Really, I am not a guest here; I am only private secretary to Mrs.
Killigrew. If they treat me as a human being it is because they
believe that charity should not play in grooves."

"Ah! We are all open to a little charity."

"That's true enough. Good morning."

"Beggar!" murmured Lord Monckton as he let the portieres fall behind
him.

"Blighter!" muttered Thomas, staring malevolently at the empty doorway.
He would be glad when Mr. and Mrs. Crawford and the artist came down.
Forbes was a chap you could get along with anywhere, under an