We had just sat down to supper when Trip rushed barking to the door. “Be quiet,” ordered the father, thinking of those in bed, and he followed the dog. It was Leslie. He wanted Lettie to go home with him at once. This she refused to do, so he came indoors, and was persuaded to sit down at table. He swallowed a morsel of bread and cheese, and a cup of coffee, talking to Lettie of a garden party which was going to be arranged at Highclose for the following week. “What is it for then?” interrupted Mr. Saxton. “For?” echoed Leslie. “Is it for the missionaries, or the unemployed, or something?” explained Mr. Saxton. “It’s a garden-party, not a bazaar,” said Leslie. “Oh—a private affair. I thought it would be some church matter of your mother’s. She’s very big at the church, isn’t she?” “She is interested in the church—yes!” said Leslie, then proceeding to explain to Lettie that he was arranging a tennis tournament in which she was to take part. At this point he became aware that he was monopolising the conversation, and turned to George, just as the latter was taking a piece of cheese from his knife with his teeth, asking: “Do you play tennis, Mr. Saxton?—I know Miss Saxton does not.” “No,” said George, working the piece of cheese into his cheek. “I never learned any ladies’ accomplishments.” Leslie turned to Emily, who had nervously been pushing two plates over a stain in the cloth, and who was very startled when she found herself addressed. “My mother would be so glad if you would come to the party, Miss Saxton.” “I cannot. I shall be at school. Thanks very much.” “Ah—it’s very good of you,” said the father, beaming. But George smiled contemptuously. When supper was over Leslie looked at Lettie to inform her that he was ready to go. She, however, refused to see his look, but talked brightly to Mr. Saxton, who was delighted. George, flattered, joined in the talk with gusto. Then Leslie’s angry silence began to tell on us all. After a dull lapse, George lifted his head and said to his father: “Oh, I shouldn’t be surprised if that little red heifer calved to-night.” Lettie’s eyes flashed with a sparkle of amusement at this thrust. “No,” assented the father, “I thought so myself.” After a moment’s silence, George continued deliberately, “I felt her gristles——” “George!” said Emily sharply. “We will go,” said Leslie. George looked up sideways at Lettie and his black eyes were full of sardonic mischief. “Lend me a shawl, will you, Emily?” said Lettie. “I brought nothing, and I think the wind is cold.” Emily, however, regretted that she had no shawl, and so Lettie must needs wear a black coat over her summer dress. It fitted so absurdly that we all laughed, but Leslie was very angry that she should appear ludicrous before them. He showed her all the polite attentions possible, fastened the neck of her coat with his pearl scarf-pin, refusing the pin Emily discovered, after some search. Then we sallied forth.