"Oh certainly, Miss Vancourt!" "We would not think of playing if you do not wish it!" These, and similar expressions came from Lord Charlemont, and one or two others. "My dear Maryllia," said Mrs. Courtenay, reproachfully--"You are really VERY odd! I have myself seen you playing Bridge, Sunday after Sunday at your aunt's house in London. Why should you now suddenly object to your friends doing what you have so often done yourself?" Maryllia flushed a pretty rose-red. "In my aunt's house I had to do as my aunt wished, Mrs. Courtenay," she said--"In my own house I do as _I_ wish!" Here her face relaxed into a bright smile, as she raised her candid blue eyes to the men standing about her--"I'm sure you won't mind amusing yourselves with something else than cards, just for one day, will you? Come into the garden,--it's such a perfect afternoon! The rose-walk just opposite leads down to the bank of the river,--would some of you like to go on the water? There are two boats ready there if you would. And do forgive me for stopping your intended game!-- you can play Bridge every day in the week if you like, but spare the Sunday!" There was a brief awkward pause. Then Eva Beaulyon turned her back indifferently on the whole party and stepped out on the lawn. She was followed by Mrs. Bludlip Courtenay, and both ladies gave vent to small smothered bleats of mocking laughter as they sauntered across the grass side by side. But Maryllia did not care. She had carried her point, and was satisfied. The Sunday's observance in Abbot's Manor, always rigorously insisted upon by her father, would not be desecrated by card-playing and gambling under his daughter's sway. That was enough for her. A serene content dwelt in her eyes as she watched her guests disperse and scatter themselves in sections of twos and threes all over the garden and grounds--and she said the pleasantest and kindest things when any of them passed her on their way, telling them just where to find the prettiest nooks, and where to pick the choicest fruit and flowers. Lord Charlemont watched her with a sense of admiration for her 'pluck.' "By Jove!" he thought--"I'd rather have fronted the guns in a pitched battle than have forbidden my own guests to play Bridge on Sunday! Wants nerve,--upon my soul it does!--and the little woman's got it--you bet she has!" Aloud he said-- "I'm awfully glad to be let off Bridge, Miss Vancourt! A day's respite is a positive boon!" "Do you play it so often, then?" she asked gently. He flushed slightly. "Too often, I'm afraid! But how can I help it? One must do something to kill time!" "Poor Time!" said Maryllia, with a smile--"Why should he be killed? I would rather make much of him while I have him!" Charlemont did not answer. He lit a cigar and strolled away by himself to meditate. Mrs. Bludlip Courtenay just then re-entered the drawing-room from the garden, fanning herself vigorously with her handkerchief.