It was always hot and stuffy in the Albion and Aunt Ellen had been
uncomfortable and fussed about it, and Chrystie was disappointed that her
favorite had not been able to make the performance a success. As they
edged forward she explained to Lorry that it wasn't Pancha's fault, it
was the sort of thing she didn't do as well as other things and she
oughtn't to have been made to do it. Then, her eye ranging, she suddenly
stopped and gave Lorry a dig with her elbow.

"There's Marquis de Lafayette. Do you see him?"

Lorry had, which did not prevent her from saying in a languid voice,

"Where?"

"Over there by the railing. You know he _is_ good-looking, Lorry, when
he's all by himself that way, not trying to be worthy of a college
education."

"Um," said her sister. "It's fearfully hot in here."

"I don't see why we ever came," Aunt Ellen moaned.

They were near him now and he saw them. For a moment he stared, then gave
a nod and reddened to his forehead.

"Oh, he's blushing!" Chrystie tittered as she returned the bow. "How
perfectly sweet!"

The first sight of them had given Mark a shock as violent as if he had
met them in an exploration of the South Pole or the heart of a tropical