"We must not judge another," said David, rather stiffly. "Conditions of martyrdom, produced the noble army of martyrs. Why should not Mrs. Vane, if placed in those conditions, rise to the occasion?" "I am certain she would," said Diana. "She would rise quite rapidly,--if the occasion were a gridiron." Much against his will, David burst out laughing. Diana leaned her chin in her hands; her luminous grey eyes observed him, gravely. Little dimples of enjoyment dented either cheek; but her tone was entirely demure. "I hope you are not a prig, Cousin David," she said, gravely. "I have never been considered one," replied David, humbly. "But, if you say so----" "No, no!" cried Diana. "You are not a prig; and I know I am flippant beyond words. Have you found out that I am flippant, Cousin David?" "Yes," he said, gently. "But I have found out something besides that." Her eyes challenged him. "And that is----?" "That you take refuge in flippancy, Miss Rivers, when you want to hide a deeper anxiety and earnestness of soul than you can quite understand, or altogether cope with." "Really? Then you must explain it to me, and cope with it for me. I hope our Christmas dinner has come up to the dinner of Sarah's intentions. Have another pear; or some more nuts? I did not order crackers, because we are both grown up, and we should look so foolish in paper caps; and yet, if we had had them, we could not have resisted putting them on. Don't you know, at children's parties, the way in which grown-ups seize upon the most _outré_ of the coloured head-gear, don them, in a moment of gay abandonment, and--forget them! I can remember now, the delight, after one of the Christmas parties in my childhood, of seeing Chappie go gravely in to say good-night to grandpapa, completely unconscious of a Glengarry bonnet, tilted waggishly on one side, or, on another occasion, of a tall peaked fool's cap, perched on her frizzled 'transformation'. Oh, to be a little child again, each Christmas-day! Yet here am I--twenty-eight! How old are you, Cousin David?... Twenty-nine? Well, I am glad you are not _quite_ thirty. Being in another decade would have been like being in a cassock.... Why a cassock? How dense you are, my reverend cousin! My mildest jokes require explaining. Why because it would have removed you so far away, and I want you quite near this evening, not perched in a distant pulpit! You cannot really help me, unless you fully sympathise and understand. And I am in such sore straits, Cousin David, that I look upon myself as a drowning man--why do we always say 'drowning _man_' as if there never were any drowning women?--about to sink for the third time; and you as the rope, which constitutes my only hope of safety. Let us go to the drawing-room." CHAPTER VII THE TOUCH OF POWER As they passed into the drawing-room, David's eye fell on a grand piano, in black ebony case, to the left of the doorway. "Oh!" said David, and stopped short.