e light and warmth of the summer earth and sky.

Milly sprang to meet him. Lady Wolvercote was surprised to learn that
this was Mrs. Stewart's husband. She had no idea a Don could be so
young and good-looking. Judging of Dons solely by the slight and
slighting references of her undergraduate relatives, she had imagined
them to be weird-looking men, within various measurable distances of the
grave.

"Lady Wolvercote and Mr. Fitzroy want me to act Galatea at the
Besselsfield theatricals," said Milly, clinging to his sleeve and
looking up at him with appealing eyes. "Please tell them I can't
possibly do it. I'm--I'm not well enough--am I?"

"We're within three weeks of the performance, sir," put in Fitzroy.
"Mrs. Stewart promised she'd do it, and we shall be in a regular fix now
if she gives it up. Mrs. Shaw's chucked us already."

"Yes, and every one says how splendidly Mrs. Stewart acts," pleaded Lady
Wolvercote.

Stewart had half forgotten the matter; but now he remembered that
Mildred had been keen to have the part only a week ago, and a little
pettish because he had advised her to leave it alone, on account of Mrs.
Shaw. Now she was hanging on him with desperate eyes and that worried
brow which he had not seen once since he had married her.

"I'm extremely sorry, Lady Wolvercote," he said, "but my wife's had a
nervous break-down lately and I can't allow her to act. She's not fit
for it."

"Ah, I see--I quite understand!" returned Lady Wolvercote. "But we'd
take great care of her, Mr. Stewart. She could come and stay at
Besselsfield."

Fitzroy's gloom lifted. His aunt was a trump. Surely an invitation to
Besselsfield must do the job. But Stewart, though apologetic, was
inflexible. He had forbidden his wife to act and there was an end of it.
The perception of the differences between the two personalities of Milly
which had been thrust to-day on his unwilling mind, made him grasp the
meaning of her frantic appeals for protection. He relieved her of all
responsibility for her refusal to act.

Lady Wolvercote observed, as she and her nephew went sadly on their way,
that Mr. Stewart seemed a very, very odd man in spite of his presentable
manners and appearance; and Fitzroy replied gloomily that of course he
was a beast. Dons always were beasts.

CHAPTER XIII

The diplomatic incident of the theatricals was not the only minor
trouble which Milly found awaiting her. The cook's nerves were upset by
a deve