"Good sport!" cried Stanor, in a voice, however, which could be heard by no one but himself. His embarrassment fell from him, but not his amazement; _that_ seemed to increase with each moment that passed. His glance lingered on Pixie's face, the while he said incredulously-- "It's--it's wonderful of you. I've known heaps of girls, but never one who would have taken it like that. You don't seem to have a scrap of conceit--" "Ex-cuse me," corrected Miss O'Shaughnessy. For the first time she seemed to be slightly ruffled, as though the supposition that she could be bereft of any quality, or experience common to her kind was distinctly hurtful to her pride. "I _have_! Heaps! But it's for the right things. I've too much conceit to be conceited about things about which I've no _right_ to be conceited. I'm only conceited about things about which I'm--" "Conceited enough to know are worth being jolly well conceited about," concluded Stanor, and they laughed together in merry understanding. "That's it," agreed Pixie, nodding. "I used to be conceited about being plain, because it was so unusual in our family that it was considered quite distinguished, and my father used to boast at the hunt that he had the ugliest child in the county, though it was himself that said it. But," she gave the slightest, most ephemeral of sighs, "I've lived through that. I'm conceited now about--other things." "Lots of them, I'm sure. There must be lots," agreed Stanor, with a sincerity which condoned the banality of the speech. "About your good nature for one thing, I should say, and your generosity in forgiving a blundering man, and your jolly disposition which makes you smile when another girl would have been wild. I can understand all those and a lot more, but, just as a matter of curiosity, I should like to know what are you conceited about _most_?" Pixie O'Shaughnessy smiled. There was evidently no doubt in her own mind as to her reply. The slim figure straightened, the little head tilted in air. Quick and crisp came the reply-- "I can make people do what I like!" "Can you, though!" exclaimed Stanor blankly. The statement seemed to threaten a mysteriously personal application, and he relapsed into a ruminating silence, the while his companion employed herself cheerfully with her dinner and the looks and conversation of her companions. It was one of Pixie's special gifts to be able to do at least three things at the same time with quite a fair amount of success. She could, for instance, write a business-like letter while carrying on an animated conversation with a friend, and keeping an eye on a small child tottering around the room. Brain, eyes, and limb were alike so alert that what to slower natures would have been impossible, to her involved no effort at all.