him her large blue eyes, blue as Nankin china, and
answers him in clear sweet tones, indifferent to the fact that every one
in the room is regarding her.

"I was wondering," she says, truthfully, "why Ulic says his prayers to
Olga."

A most disconcerting silence follows this speech. Madam hums a tune;
Mrs. Herrick loses herself in her knitting; but Mr. Kelly, who is always
alive, says "Eh?"

"I saw him," says Fay, dreamily.

Olga, who is as crimson as the heart of a red rose, makes here a frantic
but subdued effort to attract the child's attention; Mr. Kelly, however,
gets her adroitly on to his knees before she can grasp the meaning of
Olga's secret signals.

"Where did you see him?" he says, mildly.

"In the summer-house, this morning. He was kneeling down before her,
just as I kneel to mamma, and he had his head in her lap, and he was
whispering his prayers. I could not hear what he said." At this instant
an expression of the most devout thankfulness overspreads Mrs. Bohun's
features. "But they were very _long_ prayers; and I think he was _sorry_
for something he had done."

"I haven't a doubt of it," says Mr. Kelly, mournfully. "Go on, my
child."

"I'm not your child; I'm mamma's," says Fay, firmly; but, having so far
vindicated her mother's character, she goes on with her tale: "When he
got up he didn't look a bit better," she says. "He looked worse, I
think. Didn't you, Ulic?" addressing the stricken young man in the
window. "And I always thought it was only children who said their
prayers to people, and not the grown-up ones. And why did he choose
Olga? Wasn't there mamma? And wasn't there Madam? You would have let him
say his prayers to you, Madam, wouldn't you?" turning placidly to her
hostess.

"I should have been only too charmed,--too highly flattered," says
Madam, in a stifled tone; and then she gives way altogether, and breaks
into a gay and hearty laugh, under cover of which Olga beats an
ignominious retreat.

Mr. Ronayne, feeling rather than seeing that his colleague in this
disgraceful affair has taken flight, puts down his brushes softly and
jumps lightly from the open window to the grass beneath. Then with a
speed that belongs to his long limbs, he hurries towards that corner of
the house that will lead him to the hall door: as he turns it, he
received Olga almost in his arms.

"You here?" she says. "Oh, that terrible child!"

"She didn't understand, poor little soul." And then, as th