"If he wasn't, he wouldn't have to remind you of his existence now," said the old lady cynically. "But am I to be chaperon?" "Well, I'll tell you what, Miss Spencer," said Mr. Graydon. "If you'd take charge of these children, I'd be greatly obliged to you. The fact is that I've to attend a sort of unofficial meeting of Vandaleur's supporters in the afternoon, and he has hospitably offered me a bed. So I thought I'd take my bag over and dress there after the meeting." "And stay all night? I knew it," cried Sylvia. "Papa pretended it was such a bother, and all the time he was longing to be in for every bit of it. Only he didn't know what to do with us." Mr. Graydon laughed. "Maybe you wouldn't like it yourself. I shall be button-holed by Musgrave and Frost and Clitheroe, and every man in the county who thinks he has a head for politics and wants a patient listener." "And you will go at it hammer and tongs with the best of them, and forget you have daughters. I don't suppose you'll even remember at dinner-time to see whether anyone is asking us if we've an appetite." "The young fellows will do that. Every boy in the county will be there, including the 300th from Dangan Barracks." "I daresay," said Sylvia: "you're always ready to shift your responsibilities. Never mind, Miss Spencer; I daresay we shall be able to find someone who will look after us, if it's only a waiter." "Oh, indeed, you'll find someone to befriend you, never fear. And so will Pam. And so shall I. But what about Molly?" "Never mind me, Miss Spencer," said Mary. "It would never do to have you chaperoning three girls, and I shouldn't enjoy it a bit. I shall stay up and have tea for you after your cold drive." "I don't know what girls are coming to," said Miss Spencer; "I shouldn't like to have to stay at home myself." "We don't mind Molly," cried her sisters; "she really likes to stay at home and write her perpetual letters." "I shouldn't mind having the three of you," went on Miss Spencer; "we'd pass for four sisters." "We should never look as lovely as you in that white satin and pearls," said Sylvia, fondly. "I was much admired," said Miss Spencer, complacently. "But now I must be going. I've letters to write before dinner: I don't want to lose my beauty-sleep sitting up to write them." When Sir Anthony came into the drawing-room before dinner, he found only Pamela stretching her hands to the wood fire in the low grate. The lover stooped down and kissed them. "Have you been out?" he asked in a whisper. "Only to the stables with Sylvia. Your Sheila has come. She is a dear thing." "You like her, Pam?" "Who could help it? She looks so wild and shy, and she is so gentle at the same time." "Do you like her because she is mine, Pam? Do you, just a little because of that? Say you do, Pam." "Just a little," whispered Pam.