"Mr. Flash, you’re quite a nice young man, but you’re very unexperienced. A man who knows how rich he is, is not a rich man in America. He’s only well off. Mr. Stillwater has reached that stage where money is never even mentioned!" "H’is it possible!" exclaimed Flash. "I think I see the folks. So in future, Mr. Flash, when they say a man’s rich in America you will understand he is not limited to figures." William was rowing them all in. They were talking and laughing in the highest spirits. Mrs. Bunker came down through the trees in her scarlet cape, still holding her work. "A most enjoyable day’s sport, Mrs. Bunker," said Lord Stafford. "You did bravely to-day, Miss Stillwater," praised Lord Canning. "Not _Still*water," said Indiana, in a drawling voice. "Still*water_." "I’m afraid I shall never conquer your proper names. As for your wonderful charms—" "I’ll give you a lesson," interrupted Indiana. "Suppose you saw a chubby little partridge over there in the scrub fern and wanted to bag him—what would you say?" Lord Canning took his gun and levelled it in the direction indicated. "I should say, I’m afraid the little fellow’s out of gunshot, but I’ll try." "That’s not American—to be afraid!" "No, you’d guess." "I—guess—when there’s game to bring down! Never!" She seized her gun and levelled it at him. "I’d just bag him! Aren’t you afraid?" "No," looking at her meaningly, "ready and eager to be sacrificed!" Indiana dropped her gun, laughing rather coquettishly. "Good hunting, Indiana?" asked Mrs. Bunker. "Good hunting, Grandma Chazy," answered Indiana, with a comprehensive look at Lord Stafford. "You see we know our Kipling, Lord Canning." "I’ve ordered tea in the boat-house," said Mrs. Bunker. "I’m glad you did. It would be a pity to leave the lake to-day." Up in the cozy little room of the boat-house the logs were crackling. Gay sporting prints adorned the green walls. "Will you have this chair, Miss Stillwater? Right this time? So glad! It was quite an effort, I assure you." He thought as he drew her chair near the fire—"Perhaps I shall not be obliged to make the effort long. What an endless source of pleasure it will be to call her—Indiana!" "I suppose you’re all dying for a cup of tea," said Mrs. Bunker, seating herself at the tea-table, while Lord Stafford sank into an arm-chair near the fire, warming his hands at the blaze. "Where are the rest?" inquired Indiana. "Your father and mother are having their tea together on the balcony. They’re perfectly happy. I believe, Glen’s there too." "The devotion of your father and mother is very touching to me," remarked Lord Canning. "They’ve always been like that—ever since I can remember," said Indiana. "It’s very beautiful to see, in these days of marital indifference and incompatibility." "They’ll be lovers to the end of the chapter," declared Mrs. Bunker. "And there’s Lord Stafford enjoying his single blessedness. Think what you’re missing!"