“The peacock,” said Nettie in the drawl she assumed only when it suited her, “is easy. They’re vain, you know, and I wouldn’t figure it was worth while to spread out my best tail before men like Tony Palliser. I’m quite fond of being looked at, too.” “One would fancy you could scarcely find fault with him on that account,” said Hester dryly. “But the torpedo?” “That’s a little harder. I suppose you never felt as if you were full of explosives, and could go off when you wanted and scatter destruction around. A torpedo doesn’t appear a very terrible thing, you know. It’s nice and round and shiny. I’ve seen one. Julian showed it me.” “Nobody goes off in England—at least not among the people we care to mix with,” said Hester. “We send those who seem inclined to behave in that fashion out to the colonies or America. People appear to rather like explosions there.” “Still, you must get a little shake up now and then. Did nothing startling and unexpected ever happen at Northrop?” Hester Earle was English, and proud of the decorous tranquillity of the life she led. “No,” she said. “That is, nothing really worth mentioning. Where did you get charged with explosives, Nettie?” Nettie felt that one of the stoutest threads she had laid her fingers upon had snapped in a most unexpected manner, but she had observed the British character, and was not quite convinced. It was, she reflected, after all a question of what Hester Earle considered worthy of mention. “In Cuba,” she said. “Now, I was worrying about something, and because you are one of those quiet persons who think a good deal I’d like your opinion. Suppose you or somebody else had a friend who was in trouble through other people’s fault, and would not say a word to clear himself, and you found how you could make things straight for him? The answer to that seems easy, but it gets complicated by the fact that to do it you would have to stir up no end of mud and startle quite a few nice easy‐ going people.” “Speaking generally, I should leave the mud alone, and feel that the friend knew best. After all, he may have been to blame.” “No,” said Nettie. “The man I was thinking of never did a mean thing in his life.” “Then you can ask Violet Wayne. She is even quieter than I am, and I believe she thinks a good deal.” Tony and his companion joined them then, and Violet took her place beside Nettie, while the man sat down on the smooth strip of turf that sloped to the sunken tennis lawn. “You seem to have been discussing something serious,” he said. “Yes,” said Hester. “Nettie has been comparing herself with a torpedo, and wished to know whether it would be desirable for her to go off or not. I recommended her to submit the case to Violet. Hadn’t you better begin, Nettie? You rather like an audience.”