father and Maud aren't coming. They're
going to rest."

"Oh, well, we might start."

"Excuse me, Miss Dora, there's some powder on your nose."

"Oh, is there? Thanks."

"What have you been powdering for?"

"Really, Sir Roger! Besides the sun has ruined my complexion."

"Oh, the sun,"

"Yes. Don't be horrid. Do let's start."

"But Charlie--"

"I hate riding three in a cab."

"Oh, and I like riding alone in one, so----"

"No, no. You must come with me. Mr. Ellerton can follow us. He's always
drinking, isn't he? I dislike it so."

Sir Roger, with a wink at an unresponsive plaster bust of M. le
President, followed her to the door. They had just got into their
little victoria when Charlie appeared, cigarette in hand.

"Charlie," observed Deane, "Miss Bell airs thinks you'll be more
comfortable by yourself than perched on this front seat."

"Especially as you're smoking," added Dora. "Allez, cocher."

Charlie hailed another vehicle and got in. As he did so he remarked
between his teeth, "I'm d----d if I stand it."

CHAPTER XI

A DYNAMITE OUTRAGE

On one side of the Lake Dora mid John walked together, on the other
Mary and Charlie. Miss Bussey and Roger Deane sat in the garden of the
cafe. The scene round them was gay. Carriages constantly drove up,
discharging daintily attired ladies and their cavaliers. There was a
constant stream of bicycles, some of them steered by fair riders in
neat bloomer-suits; the road-waterers spread a grateful coolness in
their ambit, for the afternoon was hot for the time of year, and the
dust had an almost autumnal volume. Miss Bussey had been talking for
nearly ten minutes on end, and now she stopped with an exhausted air,
and sipped her coffee. Deane lit another cigar and sat silently looking
on at the life that passed and repassed before him.

"It's a curious story," he observed at last.

"Very; but I suppose it's all ended happily now. Look at them, Sir
Roger."

"Oh, I see them."

"Their troubles are over at last, poor children; and really I think
they've all behaved very well. And yet----"

"Yes?"

"I should have thought Mary and Mr. Ashforth so suited to one another.
Well, well, the heart's an unaccountable thing--to an old spinster,
anyhow."

"You're right, Miss Bussey. Take my wife and me. You wouldn't have
thought we should have hit it off, would you? First year I knew her I
hardly dared to speak to her--used to mug up Browning and--(Sir Roger
h