"Then—so do I say so," nodded Silvette. "Is it settled?" Diana looked up at Edgerton. "Are you really expecting to come with us?" "If you will let me." She remained a moment in thought, then sprang lightly to her feet. "Who is going to be our spokesman?" she asked; "you, sister?" "Jim," said Silvette, tranquilly leading the way. "It looks better, I think." So Edgerton politely informed Mr. Rivett of their unanimous decision, and that little man got briskly to his feet. "I’m satisfied," he said. "Come to Adriutha as soon as you are ready. Bring all the luggage you want to bring; there’s plenty of room. _Don’t_ bring any servants; there are more than enough there now. My wife and I receive you as guests; my son and daughter are about your ages; nobody can prophesy what you’ll think of them or they of you.... Colonel—if you are ready.... Good-by, ma’am," to Silvette, offering a dry little hand; and he took his leave of Diana and of Edgerton, and pulled the colonel unceremoniously out of a most elegant attitude, ruining a jaunty bow which he had not intended to finish so abruptly. "Well," exclaimed Silvette with a sigh and a laugh as the door closed, "it’s settled! Let’s forget it.... What do you think of our gowns, cousin James?" "Corking," he replied; "but my cousin Diana was very fetching in her Japanese dress this morning." "That’s like a man!" observed Diana. "I was a mess, Silvie—with two ragged peonies over my ears and those old straw sandals of yours——" "You were a vision of Japanese fairyland," he insisted. "I may be weak-minded, but I simply cannot get that vision of you out of my head." "Try some tea," as the maid brought it; "weak tea and feeble intellects agree." "Oh, I’ll try tea or anything else, but if you think I’m likely to forget the first moment I ever saw you—a slender, Japanese shadow shape against the sun!—ethereal, vaguely tinted, exquisite——" "You _are_ a poet, Jim," said Silvette admiringly. "I read one of your rhymes in _Life_ once, and didn’t think so." "Diana made me a poet. If you’d seen her as she came stealing across the window, which was all glittering like a Japanese sunburst, you’d have become a poet, too!" He began to laugh. "I even created a name for you, Diana; it came to me—was already on my lips——" "What name?" she asked, looking composedly at him. "Japonette! ... _I_ never before heard such a name. I don’t believe there ever was such a name before it suddenly twitched at my lips for utterance! Japonette!" "Why didn’t you utter it if you were so enchanted with your discovery?" "Because you seemed to be sufficiently scared as it was." She shrugged, and handed him his tea. "Japonette," she repeated reflectively; "I don’t know whether or not I care for it. It sounds frivolous." "Which you are not!" She lifted her blue eyes to his. "_You_ think I am," she said. "No, I don’t."