The proposition was so foreign to Bruce’s mood that it required a noticeable moment for him to pull himself together sufficiently to join the young lady with tolerable grace. She gave him a comprehending glance as they moved toward the staircase. “Probably all your life,” she said slowly, “you have done just what you liked. I have never done anything I liked. I am beginning to-night.” He looked at her in surprise. “Yes, I know you don’t want to do this, but I do,” she added, “and that’s all I’m going to think of. It’s my turn.” Mrs. Nixon and Mrs. Bruce followed them with their eyes. “What a little thing Miss Maynard is,” remarked the latter. “See, she barely reaches Irving’s shoulder. I’ve always said he’d marry some mite of a creature. That’s the way tall men always do, and then giraffes of women have to mate with short ones.” “I’m sorry Robert wasn’t here,” said Mrs. Nixon coldly. “He would certainly have obliged Miss Maynard with a better grace.” “Irving _is_ terribly indifferent,” returned Mrs. Bruce complacently. “If _I_ want anything, he’s all alive at once; but when it’s a question of any other woman—” She finished with a significant gesture. “I have endeavored,” said Mrs. Nixon, with stateliness, “to inculcate in Robert unvarying courtesy to all women.” Mrs. Bruce began to grow warm under her ruching. “Yes, dear, I know,” she replied, with a well-done sigh. “It’s so much easier when a man hasn’t distinguished himself especially at college. These football heroes—” she shook her head regretfully—“they do get spoiled, I admit, and grow careless. Then they reflect very little credit on their bringing-up. Excuse me a moment, Mrs. Nixon, I must speak to Betsy.” And Mrs. Bruce rose gracefully and departed on her fictitious errand rather than sustain her friend’s possible rejoinder. “For if,” she reflected, “the woman should say anything really _against_ Irving it would spoil the rest of the trip. The idea! He might have treated Miss Maynard outrageously yesterday and Mrs. Nixon wouldn’t ever have noticed it; but to-night she begrudges them a moonlight excursion.” Mrs. Nixon leaned back in her chair, breathing a little fast as her son and heir approached her. “Where were you, Robert?” she asked rebukingly. “Pacing the deck outside. I’ve no ambition to take the leading rôle in a barbecue.” “It’s not so hot.” “Well, it’s better now. Where’s Brute?” Mrs. Nixon’s nostrils dilated. “Your very well-named friend has taken Miss Maynard up to the Lookout,” she returned suavely. “He made it very evident that he went under compulsion. I wished that you had been here.” “Led him _to_ it, did she?” Robert laughed. “Good for her. I like to see Brute coerced. And girls like to do it. She’s having the time of her life, never fear.” “I don’t think so. It is a very disagreeable position for a young girl to be put in; and his manner was atrocious.”