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