“We will come and see,” said Mrs. Cossart, rising with a kind of vicious alacrity. “I know nothing, but I can guess. Sheila will by hook or by crook have got Ronald Dumaresq in tow, you will see, and Effie will be left out in the cold, or reduced to fall back on those everlasting Murchison girls! I did not bring Effie out here to throw her into the arms of a tradesman’s daughters!” and Mrs. Cossart gave that little toss to her head which was so like Effie’s. Husband and wife rose and wandered down the garden paths, too well used to the wealth of flowers and the glint of the sparkling sea to remark upon the beauties before them. Mrs. Cossart’s face was displeased, and his was troubled. Presently the sound of a clear ringing laugh broke upon their ears, and Mrs. Cossart uttered a suggestive snort. “There’s Sheila, on the tennis court, I expect. Come and see for yourself how she plays companion to Effie!” They moved on till they could command a view of the court from a terrace above, and then a pretty scene revealed itself to their eyes. On one side of the net stood Ronald, tennis-bat in hand, his white flannels showing off his slight figure to great advantage. On the other side was little Guy, with Sheila superintending, her bat in his hand, as he made vigorous and often successful attempts to send the ball across to his uncle. Sir Guy and Lady Dumaresq sat together in wicker chairs in the shade, and Miss Adene was sketching the group, a smile on her lips, as her clever pencil travelled swiftly over the paper. Sheila was in the plot, and strove to keep little Guy still from time to time in one of his pretty attitudes. Of Effie there was no trace. “You see!” said Mrs. Cossart triumphantly. “Yes, my dear; but you know Sheila offered to help with the child when his nurse was taken ill. We must not complain if she keeps her promise. You allowed her to undertake the task.” “She gave me no choice, speaking it out before Lady Dumaresq as she did. Of course I saw the motive all the while. As though people like that could not get a temporary nurse!” “Well, they have done that; but of course a Portuguese woman is not like their own trusted servant. Naturally they do not like the boy left much with her. I cannot find fault with Sheila for trying to help. She is so fond of the little fellow.” Sheila’s voice came up to them just then clear and sweet. “Oh, isn’t he a darling! Isn’t he quite too sweet? Lady Dumaresq, I hope Taylor isn’t going to get well just yet, I do so love having him. Mayn’t I give him his bath again to-night? He likes it so when I do. And he is such a little duck!” Mr. and Mrs. Cossart walked down and approached the group. “Where is Effie, Sheila?” asked the latter. Sheila looked round quickly.