or a study of the stoic spirit.
Then, going to the bag, her compressed lips twitching, her gray eyes
piercing into its clasp with a kind of distrustful optimism, she lifted
the pincers and tweaked it hard.

If the atmosphere of that dinner, to which all six from Hampstead came,
was less disturbed than John anticipated, it was due to his sense of
hospitality, and to every one's feeling that controversy would puzzle
and distress Granny. That there were things about which people differed,
Frances Freeland well knew, but that they should so differ as to make
them forget to smile and have good manners would not have seemed right
to her at all. And of this, in her presence, they were all conscious; so
that when they had reached the asparagus there was hardly anything left
that could by any possibility be talked about. And this--for fear of
seeming awkward--they at once proceeded to discuss, Flora remarking that
London was very full. John agreed.

Frances Freeland, smiling, said:

"It's so nice for Derek and Sheila to be seeing it like this for the
first time."

Sheila said:

"Why? Isn't it always as full as this?"

John answered:

"In August practically empty. They say a hundred thousand people, at
least, go away."

"Double!" remarked Felix.

"The figures are variously given. My estimate--"

"One in sixty. That shows you!"

At this interruption of Derek's John frowned slightly. "What does it
show you?" he said.

Derek glanced at his grandmother.

"Oh, nothing!"

"Of course it shows you," exclaimed Sheila, "what a heartless great
place it is. All 'the world' goes out of town, and 'London's empty!' But
if you weren't told so you'd never know the difference."

Derek muttered: "I think it shows more than that."

Under the table Flora was touching John's foot warningly; Nedda
attempting to touch Derek's; Felix endeavoring to catch John's eye; Alan
trying to catch Sheila's; John biting his lip and looking carefully at
nothing. Only Frances Freeland was smiling and gazing lovingly at dear
Derek, thinking he would be so handsome when he had grown a nice black
moustache. And she said:

"Yes, dear. What were you going to say?"

Derek looked up.

"Do you really want it, Granny?"

Nedda murmured across the table: "No, Derek."

Frances Freeland raised her brows quizzically. She almost looked arch.

"But of course I do, darling. I want to hear immensely. It's so
interesting."

"Derek was going to say, Mothe