What he would have said--or done--next can only be conjectured, for upon this unexpected and most disconcerting demonstration Shirley pulled her hand away and ran--somewhere--anywhere--she did not just know where. In this indefinite region she remained for fully half an hour. In the end she had to come back to the living-room, but when she did it was not to look at Peter. As for Peter himself, when he had got rid of his Santa Claus costume and put himself in order again, he also came back to the living-room. His face had been put in order as well as his dress, and nobody noticed anything odd about him. But there _was_ something odd about him--very odd. He felt like a railway locomotive off the track, obliged to convey to the beholders, by its steadiness of gait, the impression that it was still on! CHAPTER IX A RED GLARE "By all that’s astonishing, are you actually idling? And may I come and idle, too?" Shirley looked up from the depths of one of the capacious willow chairs, which, well stocked with cushions, were favourite lounging-places upon the great side porch of the Townsend house, and from which one could look out over a long and charming stretch of lawn toward the tennis-court. It was a warm evening in late May. Everybody else was away, and Shirley had settled herself for one of the rare hours of rest and solitude which she so much enjoyed when her work was done. But she answered Brant Hille cordially: "Of course you may, if you will be nice and soothing. These first warm days make me feel a trifle lazy." "Not strange, when you spend them in a stuffy office." Brant accepted the cushions she tossed to him, and disposed himself comfortably upon them on the top step near her feet. "The office is n’t stuffy. I ’ve sat by a wide-open window all day. Besides, the first thing Murray did when he went in with father was to overhaul our whole system of ventilation. So the office is never stuffy, even in winter." "Don’t be belligerent, or I ’ll not be responsible for the soothing effects of my society. What can I do to lull you to repose? You don’t like banjo music, or I ’d have brought my banjo over. It’s just the evening for that." "If you had, you’d have gone home again." "You _are_ in a sweet mood!" Brant spoke with the familiarity of old acquaintance. "Would you object to telling me what’s gone wrong with your ladyship?" "I can’t find out the French for certain phrases it’s necessary to use in the correspondence we have on hand just now. There are no equivalents for the idioms that I can discover as yet, and it’s most important that I get them right. I ’ve practically had to make a phrase-book for myself so far, because the dictionaries and hand-books don’t give the terms I want. I got hold of some old correspondence last week that helped me immensely, but to-day I was completely baffled. I suppose it has got on my nerves, and made me fractious."