"Frank and I are beginning to hit it off capitally," said Grantley cheerfully. "Well, I shall go in now: we mustn't leave Christine alone all the evening." He took her hand and kissed it. "So we're friends?" he asked. "I'll try," she faltered. "Yes, surely we can manage that!" He turned away and left her again gazing down on the village and Old Mill House. He lounged into the drawing-room where Christine sat, with an easy air and a smile on his face. "A beautiful evening, isn't it?" asked Christine with a tiny shudder, as she hitched her chair closer to the bit of bright fire and threw a faintly protesting glance at the open window. "Beautiful weather--and quite settled. I shall enjoy my holiday down here." "Oh, you're going to stay down here, and going to have a holiday, are you?" she asked with a lift of her brows. "Well, hardly a holiday, after all. I've got a job to do," he answered as he lit his cigarette--"rather a hard job at my time of life." "Is it? What is the job?" "I'm going courting again--and a very pretty woman too," he said. A rather tremulous smile came on Christine's face as she looked at him. "It's rather a nice amusement, isn't it?" she asked. "And you always had plenty of self-conceit." "Why, hang it, I thought it was just the opposite this time!" exclaimed Grantley in whimsical annoyance. Christine laughed. "I won't be unamiable. I'll call it self-confidence, if you insist." He took a moment to think over her new word. "Yes, in the end I suppose it does come to that. Look here, Christine; I wish the people who tell you you ought to change your nature would be obliging enough to tell you how to do it." Christine's answer might be considered encouraging. "After all there's no need to overdo the change," she said. "And there's one thing in which you'll never change: you'll always want the best there is." "No harm in having a try for it--as soon as you really see what it is," he answered, as he strolled off to the smoking-room. CHAPTER XXV PICKING UP THE PIECES Mrs. Bolton was very much upset by what had happened at the Courtlands'. An unwonted and irksome sense of responsibility oppressed her. She discussed the matter with Miss Henderson and made Caylesham come to see her--Miss Pattie Henderson, who knew all about how Sophy's letter had reached her mother's hands; and Caylesham, whom Mrs. Bolton had made a party to the joke. It did not seem so good a joke now. She and Pattie were both frightened when they saw to what their pleasantry had led. Little Sophy's suffering was not pleasant to think of, and there was an uncomfortable uncertainty about the manner of Harriet's death. A scheme may prove too successful sometimes. Caylesham had warned Mrs. Bolton that she was playing with dangerous tools. He was not now inclined to let her down too easily, nor to put the kindest interpretation on the searchings of her conscience.