Nearer came the maid-servant to the horizontal bar. At last she reached it. May and Betty sat down plump on the lawn in silent despair. Lance pulled himself gently and gracefully up. Not content with getting there, he kissed his hand to the unresponsive drawing-room windows. To do him justice, there was little sign for him that any one saw him, and Mabel’s piano playing seemed to envelop everything. He did some graceful things towards the end of the polonaise, but with the last chords became violently mischievous again. With a wild whirl he turned a partial somersault. Mrs. Dudgeon shrieked. "Oh, that woman," said she. Just then Lance stopped his whirlings and sent his feet straight into the air. His skirts fell gracefully over his face. Dr. Harry laughed a loud laugh, and at last Mr. Leighton asked what was the matter. "It’s Lance," said Jean. "He has been playing tricks all the afternoon." Everything might have been forgiven except that Mrs. Dudgeon had been taken in. She had screamed, "That woman." She began to look about for Adelaide Maud. "Will you be so kind as to tell my daughter that we must be going," she said to Mr. Leighton. Cuthbert volunteered to look for her. Dr. Harry really did the neat thing. He went out for Lance and brought him in with Betty and May. He hauled Lance by the ear to Mrs. Dudgeon. "Here you see a culprit of the deepest dye." Lance looked very rosy and mischievous, and Miss Steven, who had been immersed in hysterical laughter since his exploit on the bar, was delighted with him. "I am so sorry," said Lance gravely, encouraged by this appreciation, "but I promised mother that I should be an ornament to the company this afternoon." "Oh, Lance," said May, "how can you!" "By ’mother,’ of course I mean Mabel," said Lance to Mrs. Dudgeon in an explanatory fashion. "She has grown so cocky since she put her hair up." Mrs. Dudgeon determined to give up trying to unravel the middle classes. Mr. Maclean broke in. "Everybody spoils Lance, Mrs. Dudgeon. It isn’t quite his own fault; look at Miss Steven." Miss Steven, always prompt to appreciate a person’s wickedest mood, had made an immediate friend of Lance. "They are a great trial to us, these young people," said Mr. Leighton gently. The speech wafted her back to her gracious mood, and for a little while longer she forgot that she had sent for Adelaide Maud. Meanwhile Cuthbert endeavoured to discover what had happened to that "delicious" person. With swishing skirts, and gleam of golden hair under a white hat, Elma had seen herself escort Adelaide Maud from the drawing-room to the schoolroom. Adelaide Maud sat on a hassock in the room where "You don’t mean to say you were all babies," and Elma played "Anything you like" to her. Adelaide Maud’s face became of the dreamy far-away consistency of Miss Grace’s--without the cap, and Elma felt her cup of happiness run over. "Does your sister play like that?" asked Adelaide Maud.