‘I did indeed,’ says Susan earnestly, her heart again knowing a throb of exultation. Why, if he could only see the cushion she worked for Lady Millbank’s bazaar! ‘It must have taken a long time,’ says he thoughtfully. And then, ‘And to think of you doing it for me!’ ‘Oh, for you,’ says Susan—‘you who have been so kind to us all! I’—growing shy again—‘I am very glad you really like that little bag; but it is nothing—nothing. And I was delighted to make it for you, and to think of you all the time as I made it.’ ‘Were you, Susan?’ says Crosby, as gratefully as possible, though he feels his heart in some silly way is sinking. ‘I was—I was indeed!’ says Susan openly, emphatically. ‘So you must not trouble yourself about that.’ Crosby’s heart falls another fathom or two. ‘I’ll try not to,’ says he, with a somewhat melancholy reflection of his usual lightheartedness. They have arrived at the gate now, and Susan holds out her hand to him. ‘Remember you have promised to bring up the boys to-morrow for their gipsy tea,’ says he, holding it. ‘Yes.’ She hesitates and flushes warmly. ‘Might I bring Betty, too?’ ‘Why, of course’—eagerly. ‘Give my love to her, and tell her from—my sister that we can’t have a gipsy tea without her.’ ‘And Lady Forster?’ Susan grows uncertain about the propriety of asking Betty without Lady Forster’s consent. ‘Now, Susan! As if you aren’t clever enough to know that Katherine delights in nothing so much as young people—she’s quite as young as the youngest herself—and that she will be only too pleased to see a sister of yours.’ There is emphasis on the last word. ‘You think that she likes me?’ Susan’s tone is anxious. ‘I think she has fallen in love with you.’ She smiles happily and moves a step away. But his voice checks her: ‘Not the only one either, Susan.’ ‘Oh, not Captain Lennox again! I have had one lecture.’ Susan looks really saucy, for once in her life, and altogether delightful, as she defies him from under her big straw hat. ‘No. I was thinking of——’ ‘Yes?’—gaily. ‘Never mind.’ He turns and walks away, and Susan, laughing to herself at his inability to accuse her further, runs down the little avenue to her home. There is a rush from the lawn as she comes in sight. ‘Oh, there you are, Susan!’ ‘How did it go off?’ ‘Were they all nice? Were you nervous?’ ‘Is the house lovely?’ ‘Oh, it is!’ says Susan, now having reached a seat, and feeling a little consequential with all of them sitting round her and waiting on her words. ‘You never saw such a house! Much, much more beautiful than Lady Millbank’s.’ ‘Well, we all know it’s twice—four times the size; but Lady Millbank’s furniture was——’