Danvers rang the bell, not a moment too early; nevertheless he found the Western men standing self-conscious and ill at ease, waiting for the announcement of dinner. Arthur greeted him warmly, and Eva sparkled, smiled and chatted, moving among her guests and tactfully putting each at his best, while they waited for the last arrival--a Miss Blair, who was to be, so Philip learned, his own partner at dinner. Presently the tardy one arrived, beautiful in her serene, straightforward gaze from under fine brows and a wealth of dark hair that caught threads of light even under the gas-jets, and made hurriedly breathless excuses to her hostess. Danvers was introduced to her immediately, and the dining-room was invaded. "So awkward of me," she explained in an undertone. "I turned my ankle as I came across the lawn, and had to wait quite a bit before I could move. I was afraid at first I couldn't come to dinner, but I hated to disappoint Eva. Little Arthur must have left his hoop on the lawn, and I tripped on it. We live in the next house, and always come across lots. Doesn't that sound New England-y?" She laughed softly. "My brother says I'll never drop our Yankee phrases. I say pail for bucket, and path for trail, and the other day I said farm for ranch." "Your voice has more of _Old_ England than of New England," said Danvers, appreciatively. He had not spoken before except to acknowledge Mrs. Latimer's hurried introduction. "Oh, thank you!" Miss Blair smiled, frankly pleased. "Not that I'm a bit of an Anglo-maniac," she hastened to affirm, "but, do you know," she leaned toward Danvers in an amusingly confidential way, "I've always felt mortified over my throaty voice--that is, I used to be." Philip smiled, a smile that but few had ever seen. He listened with enjoyment. Something in his companion's tacit belief that he would understand her feeling was wonderfully pleasing. He seemed taken into her confidence at once as being worthy, and it did not lessen his pleasure to observe that the Honorable William Moore, who sat at the left of Miss Blair, received only the most formal recognition, despite his effort at conversation, to the neglect of his own dinner partner. Wit and merriment flashed from one to another, and all but the host seemed overflowing with animation. Although Latimer looked after the needs of his guests, he was often preoccupied. "Why so silent, judge?" asked the doctor in a lull of conversation. "I beg your pardon," Arthur apologized. "I fear I was rude. Perhaps I was trying to work out the salvation of my country--from my own point of view." "Planning for re-nomination?" asked Moore, innocently. "And your ankle?" asked Danvers of Miss Blair, under cover of the laugh that followed Moore's attempt at wit. "I hope that you are not suffering from it." His observant eye had noted the smooth contour of the girl's face, but as the moments passed the natural lack of high coloring seemed to grow more colorless.