I glanced at Elsie sideways. I had an uncomfortable suspicion that she said it slyly, like one who knew he wanted nothing of the sort. But at any rate, I brushed the suggestion aside frankly. 'Nonsense,' I answered. 'He wants _me_, not a bicycle.' He came up to us, waving his hat. He _did_ look handsome! 'Well, Miss Cayley,' he cried from afar, 'I have tracked you to your lair! I have found out where you abide! What a beautiful spot! And how well you're looking!' 'This is an unexpected----' I paused. He thought I was going to say, 'pleasure,' but I finished it, 'intrusion.' His face fell. 'How did you know we were at Lungern, Mr. Tillington?' 'My respected relative,' he answered, laughing. 'She mentioned--casually--' his eyes met mine--'that you were stopping in a _chalet_. And as I was on my way back to the diplomatic mill, I thought I might just as well walk over the Grimsel and the Furca, and then on to the Gotthard. The Court is at Monza. So it occurred to me ... that in passing ... I might venture to drop in and say how-do-you-do to you.' 'Thank you,' I answered, severely--but my heart spoke otherwise--'I do very well. And you, Mr. Tillington?' 'Badly,' he echoed. 'Badly, since _you_ went away from Schlangenbad.' I gazed at his dusty feet. 'You are tramping,' I said, cruelly. 'I suppose you will get forward for lunch to Meiringen?' 'I-- I did not contemplate it.' 'Indeed?' He grew bolder. 'No; to say the truth, I half hoped I might stop and spend the day here with you.' 'Elsie,' I remarked firmly, 'if Mr. Tillington persists in planting himself upon us like this, one of us must go and investigate the kitchen department.' Elsie rose like a lamb. I have an impression that she gathered we wanted to be left alone. [Illustration: I MAY STAY, MAYN'T I?] He turned to me imploringly. 'Lois,' he cried, stretching out his arms, with an appealing air, 'I _may_ stay, mayn't I?' I tried to be stern; but I fear 'twas a feeble pretence. 'We are two girls, alone in a house,' I answered. 'Lady Georgina, as a matron of experience, ought to have protected us. Merely to give you lunch is almost irregular. (Good diplomatic word, irregular.) Still, in these days, I suppose you _may_ stay, if you leave early in the afternoon. That's the utmost I can do for you.' 'You are not gracious,' he cried, gazing at me with a wistful look. I did not dare to be gracious. 'Uninvited guests must not quarrel with their welcome,' I answered severely. Then the woman in me broke forth. 'But indeed, Mr. Tillington, I am glad to see you.' He leaned forward eagerly. 'So you are not angry with me, Lois? I may call you _Lois_?' I trembled and hesitated. 'I am not angry with you. I-- I like you too much to be ever angry with you. And I am glad you came--just this once--to see me.... Yes,--when we are alone--you may call me Lois.' He tried to seize my hand. I withdrew it. 'Then I may perhaps hope,' he began, 'that some day----'