It was a critical moment: the lady who laughed might have retorted. But nothing further happened—except to Brassid. He was falling in love. “I think it is,” he said in her defence. And he said it with all Brassid’s savagery. “Oh, well, it’s _your_ souvenir,” said Mrs. Mouthon, odiously. “It is,” said Brassid. He sprung the little case open and showed them a savage face much like his own. But there was a uniform with a high collar. “My grandfather, the Indian-fighter. I wear it around my neck.” And the lady opposite guiltily put her head down, permitting Brassid to see the loveliest of blond crowns, and, now and then, the edge of her smile; again, almost a laugh. And so Brassid fell in love. They cross-examined him with the precision and directness of barristers. He informed them that he came from the city, and who his parents were, and their parents, and theirs, all of whom seemed to be known to some of the six. The lady opposite kept her head down, but the smile came and went, nearer and nearer to laughter. “Do you intend making some stay with us, sir?” inquired the lady with the one deaf ear. “It is quite possible,” said Brassid, and the lady opposite barely restrained her inclination to look up. “It is such a delightful little place, and the swimming must be fine.” Now Miss Princeps did look up. She seemed a little startled, and, then, did Brassid detect a bit of pleasure for her in his announcement? At the same moment all of the six looked toward Miss Princeps and detected her. Perhaps they more than detected her. “Bill” (that was the porter) “said that you were going up on the morning train.” Brassid laughed. “Do you, then, swim?” asked Mrs. Mouthon. “I am a very good swimmer,” declared Brassid. Again Miss Princeps looked up, sharply now, not caring that the six again stared at her. She inspected Brassid with some care. She seemed satisfied. “Miss Princeps swims,” said Miss Carat. Now the eyes of the lady opposite met the eyes of Brassid in a frank stare. Brassid blushed, as we do when we think we have overstated our accomplishments in the presence of some one who knows. “There is nothing the matter with her,” one of the invalids said, referring to head-troubles, and Brassid answered with tremendous conviction: “No!” Before the meal was over the lady with the pepper-box asked Brassid’s first name, and formally presented him, including the lady opposite. But it was only as she rose to go and swept the table with a little smiling bow that Brassid really saw her superbness. When she had left the room he found himself still on his feet staring out of the door whence she had vanished. They caught him in a sigh. “Sit down!” commanded the lady who took snuff. And they kept Brassid there and bullied him till he wanted to get up and fight the lot of them man-fashion.