; Kathryn Tassel and Mrs. Vendenning whom he did
not know, and finally his hostess Grace Ferrall with her piquant,
almost boyish, freckled face and sweet frank eyes and the figure of an
adolescent.

She gave Siward one pretty sun-browned hand and laid the other above
his, holding it a moment in her light clasp.

"Stephen! Stephen!" she said under her breath, "it's because I've a few
things to scold you about that I've asked you to Shotover."

"I suppose I know," he said.

"I should hope you do. I've a letter to-night from your mother."

"From my mother?"

"I want you to go over it--with me--if we can find a minute after
dinner." She released his hand, turning partly around: "Kemp, dinner's
been announced, so cut that dog story in two! Will you give me your arm
Major Belwether? Howard!"--to her cousin, Mr. Quarrier, who turned from
Miss Landis to listen--"will you please try to recollect whom you are
to take in--and do it?" And, as she passed Siward, in a low voice,
mischievous and slangy: "Sylvia Landis for yours--as she says she didn't
have enough of you on the cliffs."

The others appeared to know how to pair according to some previous
notice. Siward turned to Sylvia Landis with the pleasure of his good
fortune so plainly visible in his face, that her own brightened in
response.

"You see," she said gaily, "you cannot escape me. There is no use in
looking wildly at Agatha Caithness"--he wasn't--"or pretending you're
pleased," slipping her rounded, bare arm through the arm he offered.
"You can't guess what I've done to-night--nobody can guess except Grace
Ferrall and one other person. And if you try to look happy beside me,
I may tell you--somewhere between sherry and cognac--Oh, yes; I've done
two things: I have your dog for you!"

"Not Sagamore?" he said incredulously as he was seating her.

"Certainly Sagamore. I said to Mr. Quarrier, 'I want Sagamore,' and when
he tried to give him to me, I made him take my cheque. Now you may
draw another for me at your leisure, Mr. Siward. Tell me, are you
pleased?"--for she was looking for the troubled hesitation in his face
and she saw it dawning.

"Mr. Quarrier doesn't like me, you know--"

"But I do," she said coolly. "I told him how much pleasure it would give
me. That is sufficient--is it not?--for everybody concerned."

"He knew that you meant to--"

"No, that concerns only you and me. Are you trying to spoil my pleasure
in what I have done?"

"I can't