"C-c-couldn't remember a context," was her hiccoughing explanation of the breakdown, and henceforth Darsie had taken her in hand, fagged for her, petted her, scolded her, put her to bed, and ruthlessly carried off notebooks to her own study, to frustrate disastrous attempts at midnight toil. As for Dan, he was a giant among pigmies. Examinations had no terrors for him; his place was assured. When strangers visited Cambridge, their sons and brothers pointed out his big, lumbering form in the streets, and bade them remember Vernon--Vernon would arrive! Darsie was conscious that his presence lent distinction to her party, for Dan but seldom appeared in the social world. And he was behaving so well, too! taking part in the conversation, even telling stories and capping anecdotes of his own accord, and behaving quite amiably to Ralph. Darsie beamed approval on him from the end of the table, and deliberately singled him out as her companion for the after-breakfast stroll. "Come down to the river, Dan! There's a tree with the most convenient forked branch where one can sit hidden by the leaves and watch the canaders come up. Last year I heard some quite thrilling fragments of conversation." "I'll be wary of that tree," said Dan solemnly, but he helped Darsie to her eyrie, and swung himself up beside her with an alacrity which showed that the suggestion fell in well with his own wishes, and there they sat like birds in a nest, smiling at each other with bright, friendly glances. "Isn't this fine? No one saw us come, did they? They'll think we're lost. I'm tired of being polite. Thank you for coming to my party, Dan, and for being so jolly." "Thank you for asking me and for looking so--ripping!" Dan cast an appreciative glance at the white dress and blossom-wreathed hat. "Glad to see you're not knocking yourself up with too much work." Darsie bent her head with a dubious air. She wished to look well, but, on the other hand, a little sympathy would not have been unwelcome. "I'm excited this morning, and that gives me a colour," she explained. "If you could see me at the end of the day--I'm so weak in my mediaeval French Grammar. It haunts me at night--" "Stop!" cried Dan warningly. "Don't let it haunt you here, at any rate--it would be a crime among this blossom. Tell me a story as you used to do in the old schoolroom days. I haven't heard you tell a story since that Christmas night when we all sat round the fire and burnt fir- cones, and the light shone on your face. You wore a white dress then. You looked _all_ white."