The words were not out of his mouth when the puppy’s head was shaken, and down to his shoulders he was black and curly, set in a shower of spray, but the shake had not yet reached his back and tail, the hair of which was still strong and close. Next moment he stepped out on to the lawn, and Jeannie, seeing him, came a step forward to meet him. “How do you do, Mr. Collingwood?” she said. “Arthur will be in in a moment. Toby had just fallen into the fountain in trying to catch a bird. Oh, dear, how extraordinary!” And as the coincidence struck her she laughed. Now laughter is certainly the best beginning of a friendship, and Jack hailed the omen. “It seems fated that I should see you keeping off a wet dog,” he said. “Is not the subject forced on me?” “Indeed it is,” said Jeannie, who had not meant to allude to it at all, and hoped that he would not. But her first exclamation had been quite voluntary, not in her power to check. “If I had known it was you,” he went on, not even explaining that he alluded to the picture, “of course I should never have done it. And if any one had told me before I came here to-day that it was you, I doubt if I should have come. Anyhow, I should be apologizing now. But twice! It is beyond my control. I think I won’t even apologize.” “It would be an impertinence to apologize for so clear a dealing of Providence,” said Jeannie. “I, too, was rather uneasy about this moment; I was afraid you might be awkward, and make me so. But certainly you are not. Am I?” Jack laughed. “I had not noticed it,” he said. “And here’s the author of it all come to dry himself against me.” “Toby, come here at once,” said Jeannie. “You said that before, too,” remarked Jack. Jeannie’s eyes grew round. “I believe I did,” she said. “Then we had tea. What a pity! The chain of coincidence is broken. We are only going to have lunch. Of course you know this place well.” “I have never been in this house before,” said Jack. “It used to belong to a queer old lady who kept forty cats, when I lived here as a boy. My only connection was that I used to catapult the cats when they came over into our garden.” “Yes, forty is a considerable number,” said Jeannie. “Oh, here are Arthur and my aunt, Miss Fortescue. Anyhow, you haven’t met her before.” “Excuse me, she was sitting by your hat,” said Jack. “On it,” said Jeannie; “it was crushed flat.” Arthur came back alone toward tea-time; Jack, he said, had gone to see his mother. “It was kinder,” he remarked, “to let him know that a letter had been written, as he had not received it yet, and I did so. He is remarkably brave. He is as bold as a dragoon. He will talk it out, he says.” “Mrs. Collingwood will rub it in,” said Miss Fortescue. “I am sorry for that young man. Oh, did he behave decently when he met you, Jeannie?” Jeannie looked up, absently.