His sister, watching him askance, was relieved to see his troubled face become serene, though she divined the effort. "Kids are the best," he repeated, smiling at her. "Failing them, for second choice, I've taken to the laboratory. Some day I'll invent something and astonish you, Nina." "We'll fit you up a corking laboratory," began Austin cordially; "there is--" "You're very good; perhaps you'll all be civil enough to move out of the house if I need more room for bottles and retorts--" "Of _course_, Phil must have his laboratory," insisted Nina. "There's loads of unused room in this big barn--only you don't mind being at the top of the house, do you, Phil?" "Yes, I do; I want to be in the drawing-room--or somewhere so that you all may enjoy the odours and get the benefit of premature explosions. Oh, come now, Austin, if you think I'm going to plant myself here on you--" "Don't notice him, Austin," said Nina, "he only wishes to be implored. And, by the same token, you'd both better let me implore you to dress!" She rose and bent forward in the firelight to peer at the clock. "Goodness! Do you creatures think I'm going to give Eileen half an hour's start with her maid?--and I carrying my twelve years' handicap, too. No, indeed! I'm decrepit but I'm going to die fighting. Austin, get up! You're horribly slow, anyhow. Phil, Austin's man--such as he is--will be at your disposal, and your luggage is unpacked." "Am I really expected to grace this festival of babes?" inquired Selwyn. "Can't you send me a tray of toast or a bowl of gruel and let me hide my old bones in a dressing-gown somewhere?" "Oh, come on," said Austin, smothering the yawn in his voice and casting his cigar into the ashes. "You're about ripe for the younger set--one of them, anyhow. If you can't stand the intellectual strain we'll side-step the show later and play a little--what do you call it in the army?--pontoons?" They strolled toward the door, Nina's arms linked in theirs, her slim fingers interlocked on her breast. "We are certainly going to be happy--we three--in this innocent _menage a trois_," she said. "I don't know what more you two men could ask for--or I, either--or the children or Eileen. Only one thing; I think it is perfectly horrid of Gerald not to be here." Traversing the hall she said: "It always frightens me to be perfectly happy--and remember all the ghastly things that _could_ happen. . . . I'm going to take a glance at the children before I dress. . . . Austin, did you remember your tonic?" She looked up surprised when her husband laughed. "I've taken my tonic and nobody's kidnapped the kids," he said. She hesitated, then picking up her skirts she ran upstairs for one more look at her slumbering progeny.