The luncheon party however proved more productive. Let us see how this came about. "I really can't see what that man is coming for again to-day," observed Leonore, plaintively, the next morning. "People at luncheon are a bother, _I_ think." "You're not often bothered by them," drily returned Maud; "it is months and months since such a thing happened. If we lived in a more habitable neighbourhood we should think nothing of it." "Glad we don't then;" Leo pouted like a sullen child. "It means changing one's frock, and----" "There's no need of that--for _you_. _You_ are all right. One black thing is the same as another." This was what Leo wanted to find out. She had a pretty new coat and skirt, eminently satisfactory to herself, but about which there had been some demur when it first arrived. It was devoid of crape, and had a neat, coquettish air. Sue thought it hardly decent. "But what am I to do?" queried her sister. "I did so want something to wear in wet weather. Even when it is only damp and misty--and you know it nearly always is damp and misty about here in the autumn--crape gets limp and wretched looking. However, I'll send this back if you wish, Sue?" Upon which Sue had relented--as Leo knew she would. "Of course if you keep it for walking about in the woods, and do not go where you are seen, there might be no harm. Or perhaps it might be trimmed----" "No, no; it could _not_ be trimmed," said Leo, hastily. Trimmed? Disgusting! The very thought of a plain tailor-made coat which was so simple and workmanlike, yet so unspeakably chic in its simplicity, being mauled by a village dress-maker was terrible. "I must either wear it as it is, or not at all," she exclaimed with decision; "but I would not wear it to vex you, dear," and the sharpness softened; "only I can't afford to buy another," murmured Leo,--and of course she was allowed to wear it. Accordingly just as the door bell rang, down stepped a very smart little figure indeed, yet wearing a demure, unconscious air that would have deceived a Solon. "Why, Leo! My dear!" "Men never know," said Leo, calmly, "and that other old rag wasn't fit to be seen. It's torn at the back, and I gave it Bessie to mend." "But, dear, you promised,--and supposing Lady Butts----" "She's not there. I looked from my window." "I understood this was to be kept for out-of-doors," murmured Sue, uneasily, "and somehow, Leo, you look altogether,"--but the door opened, and no more could be said. Feeling that she had got off cheap on the whole, Leo did nothing further to merit reprobation, and beyond placing herself well within Mr. George Butts' line of vision, took no pains to attract his notice. But she was aware that he _felt_ her, that more than once a general observation was designed chiefly if not entirely for her, and that she had but to open her lips for him to be silent. Girls always know when this is the case.