"I'm not a bit hungry," said John tactfully; any excuse for the prolongation of the drive. So they turned off to Carshott. It was dark when they arrived at "The Croft" gates and turned up the drive, so dark that John had been able to hold Muriel's hand in his and interlace his strong fingers with her slender ones, and he was so overjoyed that he failed to notice that Vernley had done similarly. Greetings over in the hall, they hurried off to dress for dinner. The boys had a hot bath, and John sat on the side while Vernley lathered himself. "Polly's a very pretty girl," said John, rubbing hard with the towel. "Of course!" cried Vernley, banging the sponge on his head, then spluttering, "and Muriel?---well I suppose you've hardly noticed her yet," he added satirically--"it was so jolly dark--but I know she has soft hands." John coloured, rubbing his head so that Vernley should not see. "I say, Scissors! I'll bet you I know what Muriel's going to wear to-night." "What?" "That white dress with the blue insertion." John remembered it. It was all fluffy, and she looked like a fairy in a cloud. He had admired her in it and told her so. "How do you know?" "Why, in honour of the occasion, of course. I called it the froth and frolic dress, but probably Muriel calls it mode-a-la-Scissors." "You are an ass!" said John. "I am your friend," retorted Vernley. "By their companions ye shall know them." "Are you coming out of that bath--the dressing bell went half an hour ago!" "I'm getting boiled all over--I want to look my freshest to-night. You are not the only knight on the war-path; and I've got a deadly rival." "Who's that?" "Tod," said Vernley. "Personally I fear nothing from him--he's harmless, but he's got a car, and that is usually a winner." "You are a cynic," said John. "I've had experience--I've been thrown over for a tennis racquet. You don't know women, my boy." "Being elderly, I suppose you know all about them." "Almost, but there's one thing always puzzles me, Scissors, I always wonder how much these girls confide in one another and giggle at us for being such asses." "I don't think Muriel would," said John seriously. "Angel!" murmured Vernley, kissing the sponge ecstatically. III