Clemence was seized with agitation, discerning through the innocent words a thinly veiled threat. If she didn't, Darsie _would_! "Darsie!" she cried loudly. "You mustn't tell; you must _not_! It's mean. Only sneaky children repeat what is said in private. Promise this minute that you won't say a word!" But Darsie, like her brothers, was keenly alive to the privilege of holding a rod in pickle over an elder member of the family. So long as Clemence lived in fear of humiliating disclosure, so long might she herself walk in safety, free from rebuffs. She laid her head on one side and smiled sweetly into her sister's face. "I shouldn't like exactly, positively, to _promise_, don't you know, for I _am_ such a creature of impulse. If it rushed over me suddenly, it might pop out, don't you know, bang! before I knew what I was about! Of course, on the other hand, I _might_ not--" "Very well," snapped Clemence sharply, "then I stay at home! It would be no fun for _me_ to go for a picnic with that sort of thing hanging over my head all the time. I know very well how you'd behave--rolling your eyes across the table, and beginning half-sentences, and introducing `_en rapport_' every other moment. If I'm going to be made miserable, I'll be miserable at home. You can go to our last picnic as an undivided family without me, the eldest of the family, and I only hope you'll enjoy it; that's all!" "Oh, Darsie!" pleaded Lavender tragically, moved almost to tears by the pathos of those last words, and Darsie shrugged her shoulders, philosophically accepting her defeat. "All right, I promise! I'll hug the remembrance secretly in my own breast. It will cheer me through the dullest hours!" Clemence bridled, but made no further protest. To think of Darsie chuckling in secret was not agreeable, but it was as nothing compared with the humiliation of meeting Dan's grave stare, and seeing the curl of his lip at the repetition of her high-sounding phrase. As the quickest way of changing the conversation she suggested an adjournment to the morning-room, where mother sat busy over the eternal mending- basket, to broach the picnic project without delay. Mother agreed instantly, eagerly, indeed, so that there was something almost uncanny in the unusualness of the situation. To every demand, every suggestion came the unfailing, "Yes, darlings! Certainly, darlings!" Even the audacity of the double programme aroused no more notice than the remark that it was an admirable idea. Darsie, striking while the iron was hot, went a step farther and attacked the subject of lunch.