the wet.

"Look here," she cried, as he hurried up to his attic, "don't shave!"

He was delighted with the permission.

"I have an idea that Miss Pembroke is of the type that pretends to be
unconventional and really isn't. I want to see how she takes it. Don't
shave."

In the drawing-room she could hear the guests conversing in the subdued
tones of those who have not been welcomed. Having changed her dress and
glanced at the poems of Milton, she went to them, with uplifted hands of
apology and horror.

"But I must have tea," she announced, when they had assured her that
they understood. "Otherwise I shall start by being cross. Agnes, stop
me. Give me tea."

Agnes, looking pleased, moved to the table and served her hostess.
Rickie followed with a pagoda of sandwiches and little cakes.

"I feel twenty-seven years younger. Rickie, you are so like your father.
I feel it is twenty-seven years ago, and that he is bringing your mother
to see me for the first time. It is curious--almost terrible--to see
history repeating itself."

The remark was not tactful.

"I remember that visit well," she continued thoughtfully, "I suppose it
was a wonderful visit, though we none of us knew it at the time. We all
fell in love with your mother. I wish she would have fallen in love with
us. She couldn't bear me, could she?"

"I never heard her say so, Aunt Emily."

"No; she wouldn't. I am sure your father said so, though. My dear boy,
don't look so shocked. Your father and I hated each other. He said so,
I said so, I say so; say so too. Then we shall start fair.--Just a
cocoanut cake.--Agnes, don't you agree that it's always best to speak
out?"

"Oh, rather, Mrs. Failing. But I'm shockingly straightforward."

"So am I," said the lady. "I like to get down to the bedrock.--Hullo!
Slippers? Slippers in the drawingroom?"

A young man had come in silently. Agnes observed with a feeling of
regret that he had not shaved. Rickie, after a moment's hesitation,
remembered who it was, and shook hands with him. "You've grown since I
saw you last."

He showed his teeth amiably.

"How long was that?" asked Mrs. Failing.

"Three years, wasn't it? Came over from the Ansells--friends."

"How disgraceful, Rickie! Why don't you come and see me oftener?"

He could not retort that she never asked him.

"Agnes will make you come. Oh, let me introduce Mr. Wonham--Miss
Pembroke."

"I am deputy hostess," said Agnes. "May I give you some tea