“Well, nearly all. I remember you telling that one about Limerick races----” He stopped and caught at his wine glass as Faradeane’s eyes grew grave and warning. “I mean I remember that story years ago.” “I never heard it before,” said the squire, “and am just as grateful as if Mr. Faradeane had invented it,” and he laughed. “Well, now, take some wine, for we must have a cup of tea with the ladies before you start.” Bartley Bradstone filled his glass, but Faradeane and Bertie left theirs empty, and a few minutes afterward they went into the drawing-room. CHAPTER IX. “THE BIRD IS NETTED.” The ladies had got their outdoor things on; but Olivia stood at the teatable with her gloves off to give the gentlemen their tea. As Faradeane went up to her for his cup, she raised her eyes to his face curiously, and felt no surprise at seeing it wear its usual grave and half-sad expression. She had instinctively known that he had been acting during the dinner, and the light-heartedness which had so enchanted the rest, was but seeming. He met her gaze and smiled faintly, and her eyes fell. “Were you going to ask me something?” he inquired, in a low voice. “No, no,” she said, confusedly. “Will you have some sugar?” “You see,” he said, “you were going to ask me something.” Feeling as if his dark eyes had read her innermost thoughts, she flushed, and turned away to put on her gloves. “We really mustn’t be late, Mr. Faradeane!” exclaimed Aunt Amelia, who was “got up” in a hat and jacket rather more youthful than Olivia’s. “The dear people will be so anxious, you know.” “I am ready,” he said, and he went toward Olivia to offer her his arm to the carriage, then stopped suddenly, as if he had remembered something, and looked round for Bertie, who sprang forward to her side instantly. Olivia saw the sudden change of partners, and for a moment she hesitated; then, with lowered eyes, she put her hand on Bertie’s arm. The rest followed, and Faradeane got into the carriage with Annie and Mary, much to their delight, and somewhat to their awe. “Well,” said Bertie, eagerly, in a low voice to Olivia, “what do you think of him?” “Of him?” asked Olivia, with an affectation of doubt. “Of Faradeane,” said Bertie. “Isn’t he splendid? By Jove! he was at his best to-night--I mean I should think so,” he stammered, with a mental banning of his carelessness. “That’s what I call humor, Olivia, don’t you? Anybody can make you laugh--I mean any low comedian, but not as he does. He makes you think at the same time, don’t you know. You know what I mean.” “Yes, I think I do,” she said, in a low tone. “Is Mr. Faradeane always in such good spirits?” “No, by Jove! poor old fellow!” said Bertie, regretfully. “He is generally awfully sad and quiet. I think he came out strong to-night to please the squire and amuse Annie and Mary. They were delighted, weren’t they?”