And she did, hand in hand, admiringly, while he cracked his whip and cried, "_Ger'rup!_" to amuse her. "And he can do old Angus awful well, too," whispered Eve to her companion, as they passed out of the door. "We'll get him to do it by the burn when Mary isn't looking. Mary doesn't like it, you know, because her young man is a shepherd, too; but he really is quite a genteel young fellar, and kept company with the under 'rouse last year at the Forest--that's your place, isn't it?" "It's a deal bigger than this," remarked the other. "And we have deers and grouses." So the game of brag--which children play more naïvely than their elders--began, while the authoress was explaining at length how it came about that Cressida had consented to Blasius's methods of persuasion. "I don't think you need distress yourself," remarked Mrs. Vane, with an odd little smile; "Blazes is really a remarkable boy; he invariably goes down straight to first principles, and that is a deadly method of argument--especially with our sex." "Sex!" echoed the authoress, scenting the foe. "I deny the right of man----" "Lady George!" said Mrs. Vane, hastily, "perhaps some of these ladies might like to see the conservatories. I have on my boots." Blanche gave her another glance of heartfelt gratitude, and as she saw her bear off a large contingent, told herself that she was worth three of Alice Woodward, who was only equal to the bread and butter! And Paul was anything but bread and butter! The thought, as such vagrant ones have a trick of doing, begged for more consideration as she sate turning a polite ear and tongue to the task of amusing the authoress, who had remained behind; Mrs. Woodward meanwhile appearing deeply interested in a certain place the Hookers had had in Perthshire, where the gillies expected champagne and _pâti de foie gras_ for their ball supper. And she was fast approaching that condition of mind in which the only thing which prevents our owning up that we are out of our depth is the conviction that we know quite as much of what we are talking about as the other party to the conversation, when the sudden reappearance of the garden contingent bearing two bundles wrapped in waterproofs supplied an all too efficient distraction. For the waterproofs being set on the ground disclosed the coy Cressida and Blasius, both dripping, and inconceivably smeared with tar; but both to all appearance in the highest of spirits. Poor Lady George stood up tragically. "Yes!" replied Mrs. Vane, striving to be grave. "They are bad children--all bad children," she added, turning to the group of elder ones behind. "Oh, but we wasn't there!" came in a chorus, led by Adam and Eve, "we wasn't, really. It's all his fault." "Don't! Don't come near me, child!" cried the devoted mother, hastily retreating from the embrace of her only tie to life. "Cressida! What--what have you been doing?"