"I must go down to the park, but I will be back soon and stay all night. Denise will bring you up a cup of tea." Then he kisses her again and leaves her trembling with a strange, secret joy. Rapidly as he drives home, he finds them all at dinner. "You are late," his mother exclaims sharply, but makes no further comment. Eugene stares a little at the space behind him, and wonders momentarily. But when he seats himself and is helped, he remarks that Cecil is not present and inquires the reason. "She was very naughty," explains Mrs. Grandon, severely. "Floyd, the best thing you can do is to send that child back to England. She is completely spoiled, and no one can manage her. If you keep on this way she will become unendurable." Floyd Grandon makes no answer. If Marcia and Eugene would not tease her so continually, and laugh at the quick and sometimes insolent retorts! "Where is Violet?" inquires Gertrude. "She is at the cottage. She has met with an accident," he replies, gravely. "Oh!" Gertrude is really alarmed. The rest are curious, indifferent. "What is it, what has happened?" "She slipped and fell down-stairs, and has sprained her ankle; beside the shock, we trust there are no more serious hurts." "Those poky little stairs!" says Marcia. "I wonder some one's neck has not been broken before this. Why do you not tear them out, Floyd, and have the place altered. It has some extremely picturesque points and would make over beautifully." "It wouldn't be worth the expense," says Eugene, decisively, "on that bit of cross road with no real street anywhere. I wonder at St. Vincent putting money in such a cubby as that." "The situation is exquisite," declares Marcia. "It seems to just hang on the side of the cliff, and the terraced lawn and gardens would look lovely in a sketch; on an autumn day it would be at its best, with the trees in flaming gold and scarlet, and the intense green of the pines. I really must undertake it before it is too late. Or as 'Desolation' in midwinter it would be wonderfully effective." "The most effective, I think." Eugene is angry with Floyd for being the real master of the situation and not allowing him to draw on the firm name for debts. He takes a special delight in showing ill-temper to the elder. "I am so glad," says Gertrude to Floyd, as soon as there is sufficient lull to be heard. "Broken limbs are sometimes extremely troublesome. But she will not be able to walk for some weeks if it is bad." "It was dreadfully swollen by the time Dr. Hendricks came. I am very thankful it was no worse, though that will be bad enough just when I wanted her well," he says, with an energetic ring to his voice that causes his mother to glance up. "It is extremely unfortunate," she comments, with sympathy plainly ironical. "What had we better do? Our dinner invitations are out."