"Oh, but we were cheerful; we had just concluded that neither threatened any of us at present." Bernadette took a seat among them, facing Arthur as he lay on the grass. She gave him a little nod of recognition; she was especially glad to find him there, it seemed to say. He smiled back at her, lazily happy, indolently enjoying the fair picture she presented. "It's very artistic of you to go to church in the country, Bernadette," said the Judge. "It's so much the right thing. But you always do the right thing. In fact I rather expected you to go so far as to bring the parson back to lunch. That was the ritual in my early days." "I don't overdo things, not even my duties," smiled Bernadette. She was looking very pretty, very serene, rather mischievous. None the less, the parasol and the prayer-book gave her an orthodox air; she was quite pronouncedly Mrs. Lisle of Hilsey, sitting on her own lawn. After attending to her religious duties and setting a good example, she was now entertaining her house-party. "The others have gone for a walk before lunch, but it's much too hot for walking," she went on. "Oh, but you promised to go for a walk with me this afternoon, you know," cried Arthur. "We'll go and sit together somewhere instead, Arthur." "We're warned off! That's pretty evident," laughed Norton Ward. "You shouldn't give her away before all of us, Arthur. If she does make assignations with you----" "If she does make assignations, she keeps them--no matter who knows," said Bernadette. A little mocking smile hung persistently about her lips as she sat there, regarded by them all, the ornament of the group, the recipient of the flattery of their eyes. "If she made one with me," said Sir Christopher, "I don't think I should be able to keep it to myself either. I should be carried away by pride, as no doubt Mr. Lisle is." "Would you kiss and tell, Sir Christopher?" smiled Bernadette. "Poets do--and such a kiss might make even me a poet." "Evidently you'd better not risk it, Bernadette," laughed Arthur. "Well, it hasn't been the usual effect of my kisses," Bernadette observed demurely. The mischievous reference to her husband seemed obvious. It forced a smile from all of them; Esther added a reproving shake of her head. "Perhaps it's as well, because I don't think I should like poets, not about the house, you know." "Now tell us your ideal man, Bernadette," said the Judge. "Oh, I'll tell each of you that in private!"