“You forget,” said Vane, softly, waving her great feather fan to and fro, “there is an attraction here now that at other times was wanting.” She spoke lightly, almost laughingly, but her words pleased the man’s vanity. “Can it be that I am that attraction?” he asked, quickly. Then he added: “Cousin Vane, I am indeed honored.” “You jump to hasty conclusions,” she retorted, “but I will pardon your excessive vanity, if you will give me a spray of stephanotis for my dress.” “Is it your favorite flower?” he asked, leading the way back to the conservatory. “I love all flowers,” Vane answered; “that is,” she added, carelessly, “all hothouse flowers.” “You shall be well supplied in future.” “Thanks.” She drew off her gloves and pinned the spray of wax-like flowers amid her laces. Her hands were white and delicate, yet Stuart’s mind unconsciously flew to two little brown ones he had seen that afternoon grasping a plainly bound book. There was even more beauty in them than in his cousin’s, he thought. “I shall look to you, Cousin Stuart,” Miss Charteris observed, as she fastened her gloves again, “to initiate me into the mysteries of country life. I intend to dabble in farming, milk the cow, toss the hay, picnic in the fields, and get quite burned and brown.” Stuart laughed a little constrainedly. He was thinking of his picnic for next Wednesday, and wondering whether he could induce his cousin to be kind to Margery. His mother, for some unaccountable reason, did not appear to like Margery. “We must get a native of Hurstley to act as cicerone,” he responded, breaking off a leaf from sheer wantonness. “I have been away so long, I have almost forgotten my home.” “What are you going to do, now you are back?” “Nothing--that is, nothing definite. You see, my father is very shaky, and I must relieve him of some of his duties. My mother has a strong wish that I should stand for Chesterham.” “A parliamentary career?” questioned Vane. “How would you like that?” “Not at all,” Stuart answered, frankly. “Legislation is not my _forte_. I am, if anything, a sportsman.” “English to the backbone! Cousin Stuart, I am disposed to like you.” “Is that true?” Stuart asked, gravely. Vane turned and met his gaze, then laughed softly. “True? Of course it is; are we not cousins? The liking, however, must not be altogether on my side.” “Have no fear,” the young man began, but at that instant the dinner-gong sounded, and his sentence remained unfinished. Vane was led in by her cousin, and they were even yet more amicable during the meal, to Mrs. Crosbie’s intense satisfaction. She made no effort to interrupt the merry conversation of the young people, and contented herself with now and then joining in the flow of reminiscences in which her husband and Lady Charteris were indulging.