"I wish you would, my dear," said Tom seriously. "Oh, I shall one day, never fear!" She caught sight of Jennifer's astonished expression and chuckled. "Now, Tom, behave yourself! You are shocking the child!" she whispered. "I? What have I done? She's shocked at your forwardness!" Sir Maurice had walked over to Cleone. She held out her hands, and he made as if to kiss them. She snatched them back. "Oh, no, no!" she cried. "Sir Maurice!" He smiled down at her upturned face. "In truth, my dear, you've so changed from the little Cleone I know that I dare take no liberties." Her mouth quivered suddenly; she caught at the lapels of his coat. "No, no, don't say it, sir! I am the same! Oh, I am, I am!" "What's Cleone doing?" inquired Lady Malmerstoke. "Kissing Maurice? Now who's forward?" Cleone smiled through her tears. "You are, Aunt Sally. And you are in a very teasing humour!" Sir Maurice pressed her hands gently. He turned to the curtseying Jennifer. "Why, Jenny? This is a surprise! How are you, child?" "Very well, I thank you, sir," she answered. "Very happy to be in London." "The first visit! Where are you staying?" "With Grandmamma, out at Kensington," she said. Lady Malmerstoke clutched Tom's arm. "Kensington, poor child!" she murmured. "For heaven's sake everyone sit down! No, Maurice, that chair is too low for me. I'll take the couch." She proceeded to do so. As a matter of course, Tom sat down beside her. The others arranged themselves in two pairs, Sir Maurice leading Jennifer to a chair near the fire, and Cleone going to the window-seat with the admiring James. Five minutes later the bell rang for the third time, and Jennifer received the worst shock of the afternoon. The page announced Mr. Philip Jettan, and Philip came into the room. Sir Maurice felt Jennifer's start of surprise, and saw her stare past him as though she saw at least three ghosts. Philip went to his hostess and dropped on one knee to kiss her hand. He was dressed in puce and old gold. Jennifer thought she had never seen anything so gorgeous, or so astonishing. She did not believe for a moment that it was her old playfellow, Philip. "Madame, I am late!" said Philip. "I ask a thousand pardons." "And you are sure you'll receive them!" chuckled her ladyship. "I'd give them, but that it would fatigue me so. Where's that ode? Don't tell me you've forgotten it!" "Forgotten it! Never! It is a very beautiful ode, too, in my best style. _Le voici!_" He handed her a rolled parchment sheet, tied with mauve ribbons, and with violets cunningly inserted. "You delightful boy!" cried her ladyship, inspecting it. "Violets! How did you know they were my favourite flowers?" "I knew instinctively," answered Philip solemnly. "Of course you did! But how charming of you! I declare I daren't untie it till the violets are dead. Look, Tom, is it not pretty? And isn't Philip sweet to write me an ode?"