Bernadette was surprised, amused, just a little chagrined. In her own mind she had invested this excursion with a certain garb of romance or of sentiment. It was to be, as she reckoned, in all likelihood her last long _tête-à-tête_ (the driver on the front seat did not count) with Cousin Arthur; it was to be in some sort a farewell--not to a lover indeed, but yet to a devotee. True, the devotee was not aware of that fact, but he must know that Oliver Wyse's arrival would entail a considerable interruption of his opportunities for devotion. Arthur's proposal was reassuring, of course, in regard to his feelings, for it did not seem to her that it could come from one who was in any danger of succumbing to a passion, and once or twice in these later days a suspicion that the situation might develop in that awkward fashion had made its way into her mind. Arthur must be safe enough as to that if he were ready to abandon his long _tête-à-tête_! She was really glad to think that she could dismiss the suspicion. But she was also a little disappointed over her sentimental excursion--at having it turned into what was in effect a family party. Even talk about sentiment would be at a discount with Margaret there. "It'll be rather a long day for her, won't it?" she asked. "It'll be such a great thing to her, and we can cut it a bit shorter," he urged. With a slight lift of her brows and a smile Bernadette yielded. "Oh, all right, then!" "How awfully good of you!" he cried. "How awfully good of me!" would have seemed to her an exclamation more appropriate in his mouth at the moment. The child was sent for, to hear the great news. She came and stood dutifully by her mother's knee, and Bernadette put her arm round her waist. "Cousin Arthur and I are going for a long drive in the car. We shall take our lunch, and eat it by the road-side, and have great fun. And you're to come with us, Margaret!" The delighted smile which was expected (by Arthur, at least, most confidently) to illuminate the child's solemn little face did not make its appearance. After a momentary hesitation, Margaret said "Yes, mummy." "You like to come, don't you, Margaret?" "Yes, mummy." She looked down and fidgeted her toe on the carpet. "If you wish me to." "No, dear, I want to know what you wish. Were you going to do something else?" "Well, Judith had promised to take me with her to Mrs. Beard's this morning, and show me Mrs. Beard's rabbits." The tone was undeniably wistful, whether the main attraction lay in Judith, in Mrs. Beard, or in the rabbits. The combination was a powerful one in Margaret's eyes. "And would you rather do that than come with us?" Bernadette went on, very kindly, very gently. The toe worked hard at the carpet. "Do just what you like, dear. I only want you to please yourself." "If you really don't mind, mummy, I think I would rather----" "Very well then!" Bernadette kissed her. "Run away to Judith!"