Piers' smile became tender again. "As your gracious majesty decrees!" he said. "Where is the ceremony to be held?" "Up in the nursery. We've had the little ones in here all day, while Mother and Nurse have been getting it ready. I haven't seen it yet." "Can't we creep up when no one's looking and have a private view?" suggested Piers. Jeanie beamed at the idea. "I would like to, for I've been in the secret from the very beginning. But you must finish your tea first. We'll go when the crackers begin." As the pulling of crackers was the signal for every child at the table to make as much noise as possible, it was not difficult to effect their retreat without exciting general attention. Avery alone noted their departure and smiled at Jeanie's flushed face as the child nodded farewell to her over Piers' shoulder. "You do carry me so beautifully," Jeanie confided to him as he mounted the stairs to the top of the house. "I love the feel of your arms. They are so strong and kind. You're sure I'm not too heavy?" "I could carry a dozen of you," said Piers. They found the nursery brilliantly lighted and lavishly adorned with festoons of coloured paper. "Aunt Avery and I did most of that," said Jeanie proudly. Piers bore her round the room, admiring every detail, finally depositing her in a big arm-chair close to the tall screen that hid the Christmas Tree. Jeanie's leg was mending rapidly, and gave her little trouble now. She lay back contentedly, with shining eyes upon her cavalier. "It was very nice of you to be so kind to Gracie last night," she said. "She told me all about it to-day. Of course she ought not to have done it. I hope--I hope Sir Beverley wasn't angry about it." Piers laughed a little. "Oh no! He got over it. Was Gracie scared?" "Not really. She said she thought he wasn't quite pleased with you. I do hope he didn't think it was your fault." "My shoulders are fairly broad," said Piers. "Yes, but it wouldn't be right," maintained Jeanie. "I think I ought to write to him and explain." "No, no!" said Piers. "You leave the old chap alone. He understands--quite as much as he wants to understand." There was a note of bitterness in his voice which Jeanie was quick to discern. She reached up a sympathetic hand to his. "Dear Sir Galahad!" she said softly. Piers looked down at her for a few moments in silence. And then, very suddenly, moved by the utter devotion that looked back at him from her eyes, he went down on his knees beside her and held her to his heart. "It's a beast of a world, Jeanie," he said. "Is it?" whispered Jeanie, with his hand pressed tight against her cheek. There was silence between them for a little space; then she lifted her face to his, to murmur in a motherly tone, "I expect you're tired." "Tired!" said Piers with gloomy vehemence. "Yes, I am tired--sick to death of everything. I'm like a dog on a chain. I can see what I want, but it's always just out of my reach."