Derrice, to her husband's mingled delight and anxiety lest others should perceive the resemblance, wagged her light head in the same fashion that the old lady wagged her grizzled one. "Yes, but I cannot get away from him." The girl's tone was so ludicrous that every one smiled except Chelda, who favoured her with a long and searching glance. She wished to discover whether she loved her husband. She could not tell. Justin was impassive, and Derrice was conventionally girlish. She would leave the question open for future consideration. "Come, let's go to dinner," said Miss Gastonguay. "There is Prosperity swaying his head like a Chinese idol. Give me your arm, Justin Mercer. We will pretend we are royalties and go ahead. The others may follow." Justin was not comfortable during the dinner, although he went through it with a composed face. His life hitherto had been so quiet, his wants so simple, that this elaborately served meal made him impatient, almost irritated. He begrudged the length of time spent at the table, and inwardly disapproved of the amount of money represented by the hand-painted china, the gold and silver dinner service, and yet, when he glanced at his wife's happy face, he became calm. "Some men would spoil her," said Miss Gastonguay, in an undertone, "you will discipline her." Justin did not look up from the plate on which he was eating something out of season, he scarcely knew what it was. Miss Gastonguay was gnawing a chicken bone with her strong, white teeth, although she would have warmly recommended any one else who should do such a thing to leave the table. "And she will discipline you," she went on, in the same tone. Then, as he did not reply, she became impatient with the bone, and, dropping it on her plate, called for a fresh napkin to wipe her fingers. "She looks like a doll," she continued, after a time, "but if she is what you say she is, you'll not find any doll's blood in her." Justin smiled. "She is brimful of character; she reminds me of--" "Well?" said his hostess, picking up her napkin and holding it over the lower part of her face. "Of you." She dropped the napkin. "You want to flatter me, and I--old fool--like to hear you." In her interest she raised her voice, and every one at the table looked at her except Chelda, who, with the briefest, most surreptitious flash of her eyelids, continued an animated flow of talk addressed to Captain Veevers. "Nothing, good friends, nothing for general entertainment," said Miss Gastonguay, waving her hand. "My voice ran up because I thought I heard Captain Veevers make a remark, and I wished to drown him." Every one looked amused but Derrice. Captain Veevers's taciturnity was a standing joke in Rossignol, and it was said that only the general-in-chief of an army, or the chief judicial officer of the nation, could wring a whole sentence from him.