“I should not dream of giving you advice, Mr. Carrington,” said Anne with a funny, mischievous little look that further infuriated Kit. “Why should I? Nor shall I let you imply complaint of that doting old lady who is plainly wrapped up in her one affection--you! I’ve no doubt that she knows what’s good for you. Good-bye. And pray don’t gloom at your guest as you’re frowning on me now, for she won’t be out of doors where she can run if she gets too frightened. Fancy being shut up in the house with such an ogre as you look this minute!” Anne put out her hand with a friendly smile, and Kit abandoned his intention to resent her making game of him. He smiled at her instead, and joined in her laughter. “Good-bye,” he said. “I’m coming around to talk to Mr. Latham. I need literature.” CHAPTER VI _“The Face That Lit the Fires,” etc._ “What table decorations would you suggest, Kit? The drawing room is more important but I thought we might carry out the same flower scheme throughout, even to the bedroom. What do you advise?” Miss Carrington waited for Kit’s reply with evidences of extreme solicitude; she knew the value of personal responsibility, that it aroused interest in a pie to feel one had a finger in it. Kit looked honestly puzzled. “What are the decorations for, Aunt Anne? What’s on?” he asked. “My dear boy! As though you didn’t know that Helen was coming! That’s the sort of event one doesn’t forget.” Miss Carrington was arch. “Oh, Jemima! I thought she came on---- Great Scott, so this is Thursday! I had it in my head it was Wednesday.” Kit’s dismay was comical. “I don’t know what sort of flowers she likes. They’re all right, any of ’em.” “Don’t you think yellow blossoms? Helen is such a golden-tinted girl. Jonquils aren’t to be had. Roses? But they are not imaginative.” Miss Carrington bowled over her ten pins as fast as she set them up. “I particularly like to have flowers which declare themselves thought-out, selected for their suitability.” “Orchids,” muttered Kit, crossly. “No, yellow jasmine. Isn’t that the stuff that is so unnaturally heavy-scented?” “Long sprays of jasmine with ferns, and over across the room great white roses!” Miss Carrington looked delighted. “Yellow jasmine is the very thing! Helen is so wonderfully graceful. I’ll tell her it was your suggestion, Kit. Helen has acquired all the modern ways, independence, equality of mind, and that sort of thing, but a woman is always a woman below the fashions of the varying periods; Helen will be gratified that you were perceptive of her peculiar charm.” “Well, Aunt, if you tell her of course I’ll have to stand for it; I can’t explain, but the heavy-scented jasmine wouldn’t be my choice as a representative, if I were a girl. What time is she coming? Shall you meet her?” asked Kit. “She gets here on the 4:12. I’ll send the car, but you’ll go down with it, I assume,” Miss Carrington implied that her remark was superfluous.