There was a time for everything, Pixie reflected, and it did _not_ seem a judicious moment for a hostess to indulge in heroics, what time the members of her house-party were advancing to meet her with faces wreathed in expectancy. They made a goodly picture in the spring sunshine--the little trim girl and the two tall men attired in the easy country kit which is so becoming to the Anglo-Saxon type. The young hostess looked at them and gave a start of recollection. "Oh, of course! I was forgetting. ... We have been arranging a picnic. Geoff has ordered the big car for eleven. He is to drive us a twenty-mile spin to the beginning of Frame Woods. The chauffeur will go on by train and meet us there, to take the car round by the high-road and meet us a few miles farther on with the hampers. The woods are carpeted with primroses just now, so we shall enjoy the walk, and it will give us an appetite for lunch." Pixie gave a little prance of jubilation. "Lovely! Lovely! I adore picnics! We'll gather, sticks to boil a kettle, to make tea, and boil eggs, like we used to do at home when any one had a birthday. And the sticks always fell in, and the water got smoked!" Honor and the two men had joined the sisters by this time, and stood looking on with amusement. "Miss O'Shaughnessy seems to appreciate smoked tea," said Stanor, and Pixie sturdily defended her position. "I don't; it's hateful! But you can have _nice_ tea every day, of your life, and the game _is_ worth the candle! You can always pour it away and drink milk, and you've had all the fun--gathering the wood, and stoking, and looking at the smoke, and the blaze, and hearing the crackle, and smelling the dear, _woody_ smell--" "And blacking your hands, and spoiling your temper, and waiting for--how many hours does it take for a watched kettle to boil?--and in the end throwing away the result! You're easily pleased, Miss O'Shaughnessy!" "I _am_, praise be!" assented Pixie, with a fervour which brought four pairs of eyes upon her with a mingling of interest and admiration. So far as features were concerned, it was a plain little face on which they gazed; yet no one could have called it plain at that moment, for, it was irradiated by that rarest of all beauties, an expression of radiant contentment. In comparison with that face those of the beholders appeared tired and discouraged, old before their time, by reason of drooping lips, puckered brows, and wrinkled foreheads; and it was evident that they themselves were aware of the fact, and stood, as it were, as amateurs before a master. Robert Carr poked forward his chin, and stared at her between narrowed eyes. Handsome Stanor smiled approval, Honor slipped a little hand through her arm, and Esmeralda sighed and frowned, and said with a shrug--