Miss Carrington meekly followed Helen downstairs. She was angry with Kit, but had not given up hope. She also felt a malicious satisfaction in Helen’s rage; it somewhat compensated her baffled ambition for the boy, if it were finally baffled, that he could scorn and infuriate such a woman as Helen Abercrombie. She still wanted Helen to be Kit’s wife, but what fun it was to see her gnashing her teeth in desire for him! Miss Carrington thirsted for entertainment; it was entertaining to see the humiliation of a woman who held every advantage over her own years and withered face. They dined with but little talk between them, slowly, and Helen regained her self-control at the orderly, well-served table, by the help of the food and wine that she needed. “I’ll spare Kit’s blushes to-night, Miss Carrington,” Helen said, laughing, as she put an arm around the old lady and went with her into the drawing room. “I will go to my room before he comes in. And then, if you please, I’ll leave you in a day or two. I think I’ll go down to the sea, I and none other, and let Mr. Lanbury come there to see me.” “You will do nothing of the kind, Helen Abercrombie! You will stay with me. Your father is coming here if you remain. Why should I lose my pleasure because of my foolish nephew? For that matter, have this Lanbury here later, if Kit doesn’t come to his senses. Though something tells me, your manner I suppose, that I shall not like him. Helen, I beg of you not to go away! Don’t you know that I should miss you, my handsome girl? I am not feeling well lately. Stay!” begged Miss Carrington. “Better see a doctor,” said Helen, carelessly. “Well, we’ll consider my staying, but the seashore is livelier.” Helen went to her room. Now that the motive for taking pains was gone, she took no trouble to entertain Miss Carrington. She was rather pleased to be free of the duty; she did not find Kit’s aunt nearly as interesting and up-to-date as that lady considered herself. When Kit came in and upstairs, he found his aunt’s door ajar and she waiting for him in kimono and slippers on its sill. “Here, Kit!” she whispered, motioning to him and opening her door wider. “One word with you!” His heart sank. He had spent a pleasant evening talking with Mr. Berkley and Antony, and had enjoyed Peter the Second’s exposition of a plan he had for making an improved ski, a timely subject for a warm evening. Kit had been diverted from his discomfort and the puzzle as to his next step, but it had closed down upon him on the way home, and he knew that it was now to become articulate in the person of his aunt. He went into Miss Carrington’s room: she followed and closed the door behind them. “Kit, what have you done to Helen?” Miss Carrington demanded. “Nothing, Aunt Anne; I’ve done nothing to Helen,” Kit replied, hoping that he did not look as much like a small boy called to the teacher’s desk as he felt. Miss Carrington chuckled; her sense of humour was unreliable.