We looked at each other, on both sides waiting for a cue, the young man evidently quite in the dark as to whether I would wish him to appear to recognise me or not, and I, for my part, feeling something of the same nature as regarded him. But we were both too naturally, I think I may say, ingenuous, too _young_ perhaps, to act a part without distinct reason. We gazed at each other for less time by far than it has taken me to describe the little scene, then--and after all I think it was the best ending of it--we both burst out laughing, the half-nervousness which had so culminated melting into real amusement as we caught sight of Mrs Payne's amazed face. "My dearest Clarence!" she was beginning. "What--what in the world--"--"is there to laugh at?" she was doubtless going to have continued, had her son not interrupted her, before even I had time to do so. "We have met before!" he exclaimed, "though neither of us knew the other's name;" whereupon Mrs Payne's expression changed from amazement to perplexity. "Met before?" she repeated. "How? Where? At some party perhaps?" He glanced at me as if leaving the unavoidable explanation to me, both as to extent and character. "No," I said, replying for him, "it was not at a party," and then, as there flashed across my mind the extreme probability of Moore and Clarence Payne meeting each other in the future, I felt that candour, up to a certain point, was the wisest and best for all concerned. "It was when I was staying in the country," I went on, "not very long ago. My brother slipped and sprained his ankle, and your son, who was passing about the time, very kindly picked us up and took us safely home. It was not at my own home--there it wouldn't have mattered so much. We have always felt so grateful to you," I resumed, turning to "the man of the pocket-book." Mrs Payne's mingled feelings were now gathered together in extreme interest, with a strong dash of satisfaction. "Dear Clarence is always so anxious to help," she said, "and he always keeps his presence of mind." "You make too much of it, Miss Fitzmaurice," he replied to me. "You have done so all through. The little service I rendered you was literally nothing, though indirectly I hope it may have been of use by obviating delay as to the doctor's seeing the injury--" "Very _directly_, I should say;" and then for no special reason; I do not think my remark was particularly funny; we both laughed again. By this time I, at least, was feeling quite at my ease, and so I think was my companion. "So the doctor did come quickly?" he inquired, "and your brother is all right again by this time, I hope?" drawing forward a chair for me to the table, while his mother busied herself with the sandwiches and other things prepared for us, though listening the while with all her ears to these interesting reminiscences of ours.