"But, my dear, supposing I can't help it?" suggests he, mildly. "Our
risible faculties are not always under our control."

"On an occasion such as this they should be."

"Letitia," says Mr. Massereene, regarding her with severity, "you are
going to laugh yourself; don't deny it."

"No,--no, indeed," protests Letitia, foolishly, considering her
handsome face is one broad smile, and that her plump shoulders are
visibly shaking.]

"It is mean! it is shameful!" says Molly, from within, seeing no chance
of escape. Whichever way she rushes can be only into his arms.

"All that you can say shan't prevent me," decides Luttrell, moving
toward her with fell determination in his eye.

"Perhaps a little that I can say may have the desired effect," breaks
in Mr. Massereene, advancing into the middle of the room, with Letitia,
looking rather nervous, behind him.

Tableau.

There is a sudden, rather undignified, cessation of hostilities on the
part of Mr. Luttrell, who beats a hasty retreat to the wall, where he
stands as though glad of the support. He bears a sneaky rather than a
distinguished appearance, and altogether has the grace to betray a
considerable amount of shame.

Molly, dropping her gown, turns a rich crimson, but is, I need hardly
say, by far the least upset of the two delinquents. She remains where
she is, hedged in by the table, and is conscious of feeling a wild
desire to laugh.

Determined to break the silence, which is proving oppressive, she says,
demurely:

"How fortunate, John, that you happened to be on the spot! Mr. Luttrell
was behaving _so_ badly!"

"I don't need to be told that."

"But how did you come here?" asks Molly, making a brave but
unsuccessful effort to turn the tables upon the enemy. "And Letitia,
too! I do hate people who turn up when they are least expected. What
were you doing on the balcony?"

"Watching you--and--your friend," says John, very gravely for him. He
addresses himself entirely to Molly, her "friend" being in the last
stage of confusion and utterly incapable of speech. At this, however,
he can support the situation no longer, and, coming forward, says
eagerly:

"John, let me explain. The fact is, I asked Miss Massereene to marry
me, a little time ago, and she has promised to do so--if you--don't
object." After this bit of eloquence he draws himself up, with a little
shake, as though he had rid himself of something disagreeable, and
becomes once more his usua