"Why yes, of course!" stammered Doris. "She's been awfully kind to us about the lectures, and--he loves arguing with her." "She loves arguing with _him_!" 'said Miss Field triumphantly. "She lives just for such half-hours as that she gave us on the lawn after tea--and all owing to him--he was so inspiring, so stimulating. Oh, you'll see, she'll take you up tremendously--if you want to be taken up!" The smiling blue eyes looked gaily into Doris's puzzled countenance. Evidently the speaker was much amused by the Meadowses' situation--more amused than her sense of politeness allowed her to explain. Doris was conscious of a vague resentment. "I'm afraid I don't see what Lady Dunstable will get out of me," she said, drily. Miss Field raised her eyebrows. "Are you going then to let him come here alone? She'll be always asking you! Oh, you needn't be afraid--" and this most candid of cousins laughed aloud. "Rachel isn't a flirt--except of the intellectual kind. But she takes possession--she sticks like a limpet." There was a pause. Then Miss Field added: "You mustn't think it odd that I say these things about Rachel. I have to explain her to people. She's not like anybody else." Doris did not quite see the necessity, but she kept the reflection to herself, and Miss Field passed lightly to the other guests--Sir Luke, a tame cat of the house, who quarrelled with Lady Dunstable once a month, vowed he would never come near her again, and always reappeared; the Dean, who in return for a general submission, was allowed to scold her occasionally for her soul's health; the politicians whom she could not do without, who were therefore handled more gingerly than the rest; the military and naval men who loved Dunstable and put up with his wife for his sake; and the young people--nephews and nieces and cousins--who liked an unconventional hostess without any foolish notions of chaperonage, and always enjoyed themselves famously at Crosby Ledgers. "Now then," said Miss Field, rising at last, "I think you have the _carte du pays_--and there they are, coming back." She pointed to Meadows and Lady Dunstable, crossing the lawn. "Whatever you do, hold your own. If you don't want to play games, don't play them. If you want to go to church to-morrow, go to church. Lady Dunstable of course is a heathen. And now perhaps, you might _really_ rest." "Such a jolly walk!" said Meadows, entering his wife's room flushed with exercise and pleasure. "The place is divine, and really Lady Dunstable is uncommonly good talk. Hope you haven't been dull, dear?" Doris replied, laughing, that Miss Field had taken pity on what would otherwise have been solitary confinement, and that now it was time to dress. Meadows kissed her absently, and, with his head evidently still full of his walk, went to his dressing-room. When he reappeared, it was to find Doris attired in a little black gown, with which he was already too familiar. She saw at once the dissatisfaction in his face.