"Bobby, darling, how can you be so rude to my poor flowers," said she, colouring at his humour in front of this stranger. "I'm sure you ought to be grateful to them----" then stopped short as if regretting having spoken. "Oh, that's right, rub it in," responded her brother with a little sneering laugh. "I'm always being pulled up for something and just because you sold a few for once, I suppose I shall never hear the last of what those precious flowers of yours have done for me. Wish to goodness I was on my own, like other fellows." "Oh, Bobby," Miss Wynne said, softly, "you know I didn't mean----" "No, but you let me know it, mean or no mean," he retorted sullenly, "seems to me that the best thing I can do is to take myself off, and then everybody will be better. I'll lunch at the inn, thanks. I say, Headland, when you feel up to it, you might meet me there, and perhaps we can have a bit of sporting chat together and these two can spoon amongst the flowers." With which final dig at his sister's pet hobby and the doctor's evident devotion, this engaging young gentleman lurched out of the room and down the little passage leading to the front door without another word. A strained silence fell on the party for a second until Jennifer, recovering herself first, said in explanation: "He's such a big overgrown schoolboy, Mr. Headland, and I'm afraid he's jealous of my beautiful hyacinths. Please don't give Bobby's rudeness another thought or I shall feel horribly ashamed." Cleek shook his head smilingly. "Pray don't mention it," he said in a smooth tone. "Boys will be boys, you know, and I rather like a dash of sport myself." That seemed to set the girl at ease, and Cleek had an opportunity for a moment of watching and making notes in that wonderful mental diary of his. It was not until coffee, made by Jennifer's own capable and slender fingers, had been served and the gentlemen given permission to smoke, that Cleek managed to secure the opportunity he so strongly desired, of seeing inside that little surgery door. Diving his hand into his pocket, and having assured himself that the object he sought was reposing safely at the bottom, he gave vent to a little exclamation of well-simulated disgust. "Nuisance, Miss Wynne. I am sorry, but I've left my cigarette case up in your brother's room. Would you mind if I ran up and got it?" "Oh, I'll get it for you," said the girl, quickly. But that was the very thing Cleek was most anxious to avoid. "No, my dear young lady, I know just exactly where it is and I promise not to thieve anything----" With a little asinine snigger at his own humour, Cleek had crossed the tiny room and was on his way up the staircase before Miss Wynne could find time to remonstrate.