him to come
to the house with her, for his face was so radiant with the ecstasy of
not having been discarded by her that she did not wish him to be seen.
From her window Mrs. Easterfield saw this young man on his return from
his promenade, and she knew it would not be many minutes before he would
reach the house. She also saw the diplomat, who was glaring across the
grounds at some one, probably Mr. Locker, who, not unlikely, was glaring
back at him. She had come up-stairs to do some writing, but now she put
down her pen and called to her secretary.

"Miss Raleigh," said she, "it has been a good while since you have done
anything for me."

"Indeed it has," said the other with a sigh.

"But I want you to do something this minute. It is strictly confidential
business. I want you to go down on the lawn, or any other place where
Miss Asher may be, and make yourself _mal a propos_. I am busy now, but
I will relieve you before very long. Can you do that? Do you
understand?"

The aspect of the secretary underwent a total change. From a dull,
heavy-eyed woman she became an intent, an eager emissary. Her hands
trembled with the intensity of her desire to meddle with the affairs of
others.

"Of course I understand," she exclaimed, "and I can do it. You mean you
don't want any of those young men to get a chance to speak to Miss
Asher. Do you include Mr. Lancaster? Or shall I only keep off the
others?"

"I include all of them," said Mrs. Easterfield. "Don't let any of them
have a chance to speak to her until I can come down. And hurry! Here is
one coming now."

Hurrying down-stairs, the secretary glanced into the library. There she
saw Mrs. Fox in one armchair, and Olive in another, both reading. In the
hall were the two little girls, busily engaged in harnessing two small
chairs to a large armchair by means of a ball of pink yarn. Outside,
about a hundred yards away, she saw Mr. Hemphill irresolutely
approaching the house. Miss Raleigh's mind, frequently dormant, was very
brisk and lively when she had occasion to waken it. She made a dive
toward the children.

"Dear little ones," she cried, "don't you want to come out under the
trees and have the good Mr. Hemphill tell you a story? I know he wants
to tell you one, and it is about a witch and two pussy-cats and a
kangaroo. Come along. He is out there waiting for us." Down dropped the
ball of yarn, and with exultant cries each little girl seized an
outstretched hand of