Marjolaine came to the rescue. She tripped up to him and put her arm through his. "There ’s something the matter with the Walk this evening, Sir Peter. I ’m the only merry one among you!" Madame could not help exclaiming with grave remonstrance, "Marjolaine!" Marjolaine came close to her mother. "Oh, let me laugh, Maman!" She proceeded in a whisper, "They are so droll! Sir Peter is afraid of Mrs. Poskett; Mrs. Poskett is almost in tears; Mr. Basil is gloomy; Ruth is in a bad temper; and Mr. Brooke-Hoskyn has n’t got over Saturday’s banquet." "But you, Marjolaine—!" exclaimed Madame with quiet reproof. "You told me to fight it, Maman," said Marjolaine, with a shy laugh. Then she ran across to Basil, who was watching the door through which Barbara might still come. He was wondering what demon had persuaded him to accept this invitation, which had brought him out of doors, when he might have stayed indoors where he would at least have been under the same roof as Barbara. The Admiral had bravely recovered from his rebuff. He came up to Brooke-Hoskyn. "Well, Brooke, my boy! Did n’t see you in church yesterday. Too much turtle on Saturday—what?" and down came the flat of his hand with a round thwack on Mr. Brooke-Hoskyn’s broad back. To be accused of having overeaten yourself when you are suffering from a bad headache is extremely annoying; to be slapped on the back when you are swallowing hot tea is infuriating. Mr. Brooke-Hoskyn turned on Sir Peter. "Nothing of the sort, sir!—I deprecate these unseemly familiarities. I was detained from divine service because I chose to sit at home and hold my dear Selina’s hand!" And he turned his back on Sir Peter. "Um," said the latter. His playful banter was certainly not being well received. Mrs. Poskett looked up at Mr. Brooke-Hoskyn with melancholy eyes. "How is your wife?" she said, "that dear, innocent lamb." "Gambolling, Ma’am," he answered, airily. "Figuratively speaking, Selina is gambolling." "How wonderful!" exclaimed Mrs. Poskett, sympathetically. Basil Pringle felt that something drastic must be done if they were to live through the evening. He addressed Marjolaine. "Miss Marjory, won’t you cheer us with a song?" Madame Lachesnais interposed quickly: this was putting her poor child’s courage to too severe a test. "I am sure she would prefer not to sing this evening." But Marjolaine exclaimed merrily, "Oh, yes, Maman, if they would like it!" Madame could only admire her indomitable pluck. "Brave child!" she murmured. "Sing that pretty little thing about the blue ribbon," cried the Admiral, and hummed the first bar. "Ha!" mockingly cried Mr. Brooke-Hoskyn. The Admiral faced him angrily: "Well, sir?" Mr. Brooke-Hoskyn eyed him calmly through his quizzing glass, and said coldly, "What, sir?" Madame interposed with her most amiable smile. "Sir Peter, Mrs. Poskett’s cup is empty."