"Yes," said Garda, serenely; "I told him we could make so many more excursions if they were staying down here. And so we can, I hope--Lucian and I, at any rate; _we're_ light on our feet." "If Madam Giron should consent, when would the Spensers come down?" said Margaret, pursuing her investigations. "To-morrow at twelve," Garda answered, promptly. "Mrs. Spenser knew nothing of it yesterday." "Oh yes, she did; a little." "She didn't speak of it." "She didn't speak of it because she's not pleased with the idea. At least not much." "Then it's Mr. Spenser who is pleased?" "Yes; still, I am the most pleased of all; I suggested it to him, he would never have thought of it himself. You see, he was losing so much time in coming and going. If he were at Madam Giron's, too, I could hope to see him sometimes in the evening; for instance, to-morrow evening." "Do you mean that he is coming to see us then?" "He is coming to see me; that is, if they are down there. I shall not let him see any of the rest of you. It isn't a sitting, you know, we don't have sittings by moonlight; I shall send him word where to come, and then I shall slip out and find him." Margaret stopped. "Garda," she said, in a changed tone, "you told me yesterday that I had been very kind to you--" "So you have been." "Then I hope you won't think me unkind--I hope you will yield to my judgment--when I tell you that you must not send any such message to Mr. Spenser." "Didn't I tell you you would try to stop it?" said Garda, gleefully. "Of course I shall try. And I think you will do as I wish." Garda did not answer, she only looked at her friend with a vague little smile. She seemed not to be giving her full attention to what she was saying; and at the same moment, singularly enough, she seemed to be admiring her, taking that time for it--admiring the delicate moulding of her features, her oval cheeks, which had now a bright flush of color. The expression of her own face, meanwhile, remained as soft as ever, there was not a trace of either opposition or annoyance. "Isn't there some one else, too, who would not like to have you do such--such foolish thing?" Margaret went on. "Shouldn't you think a little of Evert?" "Evert's too far off to think of. He's a thousand miles away." "What difference does that make?" "You're right, it doesn't make any," said Garda. "I should do just the same, I presume, if he were here." She spoke in a matter-of-fact tone. Margaret looked at her, and seemed hardly to know what to say next. In the position in which they were standing, Garda was facing the entrance of the orange walk. Her eyes now began to gleam. "Isn't this funny?" she said. "Here he is himself!" Margaret turned, expecting to see Lucian. But it was Evert Winthrop who was coming towards them.