"He is coming." The idea sends through her whole frame a little thrill of protective gladness. How happy, how independent she will feel with her champion always near her! A sneer loses half its bitterness when resented by two instead of one, and Luttrell will be a sure partisan. Apart from all which, she is honestly glad at the prospect of so soon meeting him face to face. Therefore it is that with shining eyes and uplifted head she takes her place at the breakfast-table, which gives the pleasantest meal at Herst--old Amherst being ever conspicuous by his absence at it. Philip, too, is nowhere to be seen. "It will be a _tete-a-tete_ breakfast," says Marcia, with a view to explanation. "Grandpapa never appears at this hour, nor--of late--does Philip." "How unsociable!" says Molly, rather disappointed at the latter's defection. "Do they never come? All the year round?" "Grandpapa never. But Philip, I presume, will return to his usual habits once the house begins to fill,--I mean, when the guests arrive." "This poor little guest is evidently of small account," thinks Molly, rather piqued, and, as the thought crosses her mind, the door opens and Philip comes toward her. "Good-morning," he says, cheerfully. "You have breakfasted?" Marcia asks, coldly, in a rather surprised tone. "Long since. But I will take a cup of coffee from you now, if you will allow me." "I hardly think you deserve it," remarks Molly, turning luminous, laughing eyes upon him. "Marcia has just been telling me of your bad habits. Fancy your preferring your breakfast all alone to having it with----" "You?" interrupts he, quickly. "I admit your argument; it was bearish; but I was particularly engaged this morning. You shall not have to complain of my conduct in the future, however, as I am resolved to mend my ways. See how you have improved me already." "Too sudden a reformation, I fear, to be lasting." "No. It all hinges on the fact that the iron was hot. There is no knowing what you may not do with me before you leave, if you will only take the trouble to teach me. Some more toast?" "No, thank you." Marcia grows a shade paler, and lets one cup rattle awkwardly against another. Have they forgotten her very presence? "I have not much fancy for the _role_ of teacher," goes on Molly, archly: "I have heard it is an arduous and thankless one. Besides, I believe you to be so idle that you would disgrace my best efforts." "Do you? Then you wrong me. On the contrary, you would find me a very apt pupil,--ambitious, too, and anxious to improve under your tuition." "Suppose," breaks in Marcia, with deadly civility, "you finish your _tete-a-tete_ in the drawing-room. We have quite done breakfast, I think, and one wearies of staring at the very prettiest china after a bit. Will you be good enough to ring the bell, Philip?"