He was face to face with Miss Mayne, with Georgina at her side. The governess had overheard Jane's protest, and was laughing as they shook hands. Graeme approved of her laugh; it produced tiny wrinkles at the side of her nose, giving her face an ingenuous and infectious merriment. Despite the pre-occupation of the apology he was mentally framing, Graeme noticed that her eyes were grey, and that there were freckles powdered like gold-dust about the attractive nose. "I ought to have let you know before," he said. "I hope you don't mind, but the fact is, my step-sister is away. She and her husband have had to go up to town." The smile faded from Miss Mayne's face. "I'm sorry. We didn't know." Her regard, meeting the man's, somehow reminded him of the searching look Cornelius James had given him at their first encounter. "Emily entrusted me with the job of explaining her absence and apologising. I should have done both sooner, but, somehow, it never entered my head. I have been looking forward so much to having a party----" He grinned boyishly and flushed. Miss Mayne Was sophisticated enough to interpret aright all that quick flush meant. Her smile returned like a reassured rabbit sallying forth again from its burrow. "It's very brave of you," she said, "and we are ever so grateful, because we've been looking forward to this afternoon, too, haven't we, Georgina?" Georgina awkwardly confirmed this; she was at the shy age of girlhood--the age at which youth finds itself a trifle superfluous in Nature's inexorable scheme. "Very well, then," said their host, "we will proceed according to plan, as the Hun said when he retreated," and led the way towards the house. For the first time in his life he played the host, and the rôle became him. True, the house was not his, but he knew and loved it, in his shy, unobtrusive fashion, and showed a knowledge of its contents that more than once caused Miss Mayne to glance at him with a half surprised, veiled appreciation. She herself spoke little, but, when she did, displayed a love of the beautiful and no small knowledge of many of the arts that beautified the interior of the mansion. The little party had reached the portrait gallery, and at Georgina's request Mouldy Jakes furnished them with thumb-nail sketches of the life histories of the originals. He talked in a dryly humorous fashion that held the children alternately entranced and convulsed with laughter, warming to his self-imposed task as Miss Mayne caught the infectious mirth and echoed the children's gurgles with her own clear sweet laugh. "And who is that?" inquired Georgina, pointing to a bloodless-looking dame in blue satin holding a toy spaniel in her preposterously tapering hands. "Ah!" said their host, "now we're getting to the really interesting ones. I was saving her for the last. There's a story about her you won't believe." "Tell," commanded Jane, possessing herself of his undamaged hand.