"That is not a gift of mine, as you know. Scissors, old thing, you're racing your phagocytes, as Metchnikoff would say, since all love is stimulation. She isn't worth it. I know old Veronica. She's a heart-cracker. She counts her conquests by the hundred." "I don't think it's very decent of you to--" began John, a little peevish. Marsh's flippancy irritated him. "To abuse our guest? No, it's not, Scissors, but I don't want to see you going about with sticking plaster on your heart. Old Veronica and I understand each other perfectly. She cracked me once, and then laughed. That kid hasn't the brains of a beetle; she's merely an agitator of pink youth. Flirt with her, yes, and she'll give you a good time, for she's got a sporting instinct--but don't take her seriously--she doesn't know what it means. Did you hear her ask you for a comic song?--and you did sing well to-night, Scissors--the nightingale to his mate." Marsh touched the tender spot. That comic song request rankled. "You didn't talk much with her?" asked Marsh. "No." "Well--do so to-morrow. Ask her what she reads, what she likes, the pictures she prefers. She's got a mind like an illustrated Sunday paper--you've had the comic supplement to-night." John groaned. Marsh's arrows always hit. "I think you're beastly about her," he said desperately. "No, I'm not. Veronica and I are great pals, but she doesn't come deer-stalking on this estate. You're a sweet kid, Scissors, and I'm not going to let you cry yourself to sleep for a butterfly with the brains of a bat!" "Oh rot--you do rag, Teddie." "Well, well, dear infant, just investigate to-morrow." Why did Marsh delight in pricking balloons? He was right: horribly right, thought John, as they drove away from the manor house next evening. That afternoon had been one long disillusionment. She was just as beautiful, just as attractive, and John feasted his eyes and heart on her. But she made a mistake when she took him down to pick gooseberries, in the far end of the garden, away from the others. "Give me your hand," she cried, and he helped her up the bank. He tried to master an impulse to squeeze it, and just failing, was going to, when she anticipated him. That sent the first cool little wind around his heart. She laughed frankly into his eyes. She was irresistibly beautiful, "and she knows it," thought John. "Shut your eyes, Scissors, and open your mouth." He obeyed. A cool thin hand held his chin, the fingers of another pushed a berry in his mouth. "Swallow!" He swallowed obediently. "Open!" she commanded. He opened his eyes, her face was very near to his, her bewitching red mouth smiled at him, and he saw two little devils of mischief dancing in blue eyes that looked straight into his. John looked back into them. There was a pause. "You're shy," she said reproachfully. "I know," he answered. Her hand slid off his shoulder.