The Serpent indeed paid Betty out for many months of torture. Her calm, disconcerting gaze never wavered, as she watched every movement of that ready enemy. Mrs. Leighton made her only mistake in showing definitely that she wanted to be kind to Elsie. That little lady’s pale visage looked fiercely out at her and chilled the words that were intended to come. It was as Betty described it a most "terrifying interview." In the midst of it came a telegram to Mrs. Clutterbuck. "Oh, you will excuse me," said she nervously. "We are expecting a friend." During the interval of opening the envelope Elsie disappeared. It had the effect of warming Mrs. Clutterbuck to confidences once more. "It is a great pleasure to me," said she. "My young cousin is coming. He is quite a distinguished, man. All Dr. Clutterbuck’s people are distinguished, but my family are different. Except Arthur, whom Dr. Clutterbuck is quite pleased to meet. He is coming to-night." She called the maid. "Tell Miss Elsie it is the 5.40 train. Mr. Symington comes then." She had a halting, staccato way of picking her small sentences, as though insecure of their effect. "People enjoy coming to Ridgetown," said Mrs. Leighton lamely, in the endeavour to keep the wheels of conversation oiled more securely. "Do they," asked the Professor’s wife. Then she stammered a trifle. "A--a--that is--I have never had a visitor in Ridgetown till now. Dr. Clutterbuck does not care for visitors. Arthur is different from what others have been, I hope." She seemed full of anxiety. "Oh, I gave up long ago trying to please Mr. Leighton with my visitors," said Mrs. Leighton heartily and quite untruthfully. "Husbands must take their chance of that, you know." She rose to go. "Please tell Dr. Clutterbuck he is never again to come to see us without you," she said, "and won’t Elsie come to tea one day?" On their departure Mrs. Clutterbuck turned to find a blazing little fury in the doorway. "Mother," cried Elsie, "Mother! How could you! I shall never go to tea with Betty Leighton." Her mother turned two eyes full of light on her. The light slowly died to dull patience again. "We shall go down together to meet cousin Arthur," she said quietly. It seemed as though her bright thoughts must turn to drab colour automatically where either her husband or child was concerned. It was characteristic of Elsie that, although blazing with wild anger and wicked little intentions, she should be unable to give voice to them at that moment. The inevitable obstinacy of her mother where the routine of the house was concerned, the drab colour of the one day which was invariably like the other, the cruel, cruel sameness of it all! It was impossible that Cousin Arthur should not be drab colour also. "I’d rather remain here," she said at last. There was even some pleading in her tone. "Your father said we had better meet Cousin Arthur," said her mother.