But Mildred, watching the approaching figure of the man she knew merely as O'Neil, did not reply. She was wondering why she was so attracted towards him. He was not particularly good-looking, nor had he shown any marked preference for her society. Indeed, she had laughed with Mrs. Perth over the attentions which O'Neil paid the old lady. But there was something about the secretary which made Mildred's pulses beat as they never beat in the presence of Jarman. Perhaps, although she never knew, it was a case of telepathy, for Frank was always moved beyond his usual self when in her presence. But he never revealed it by his manner. Mildred, however, was not sufficiently a psychologist to analyse her feeling, so did not search too closely into the reason of her sensations. Still, she could not help wondering why she felt annoyed by Jenny's silly remark. "I think you had better take that Denham boy," said Mildred to Jenny. "He bothers me greatly, and he's the kind of donkey who would fall in love with anyone." "I don't regard myself as anyone," said Jenny, with dignity. "Besides, he's not half so nice as Mr. O'Neil." Mildred acknowledged this with a sigh, and welcomed O'Neil with a blush, which he marked and wondered at. "Where is Mr. Jarman?" she asked. "He has gone bathing with Billy and Denham," said Frank, standing outside and looking in at the window. "I have done my work, and came to be rewarded." "With what--cakes and ale?" asked Jenny, languishing. "Their modern equivalent in the shape of afternoon tea." "Let's have it outside on the lawn. Oh, Mildred, do!" Miss Starth assented. "Mrs. Perth is lying down," she said, "and as the room is rather hot, we may as well have a picnic on the lawn." Forthwith she ordered the tea, which was brought out by the one servant of the establishment. But Jenny had to lay the cloth, and Frank was told to place the tables under the noble elm. In a few minutes they were all seated, Mildred and Frank in chairs, and Jenny lying gracefully on the lawn. Every now and then she looked up adoringly at the secretary, who took no notice. But Mildred did, and so strong became that absurd feeling of irritation that she could willingly have slapped Jenny. After a desultory conversation, Jenny asked when Denham was returning to town. "Billy will be sorry when he goes. He's awfully fond of Mr. Denham. The adventures that man's had in America are extraordinary." "He comes from America, doesn't he?" asked Mildred, idly. Jenny nodded. "And Billy says he's been a sailor, he thinks." "He doesn't look much like a sailor," said Frank, contemptuously. "He has been wrapped up in cotton-wool all his life." "Oh, no, he hasn't indeed," said Miss Arrow, eagerly. "He has lived in Mexico, and among the Indians--not the Red Indians, you know, but amongst those Cortez found." "The Aztecs," said Mildred. "My dear girl, there are none left."