Maud sat silent and thoughtful. Presently Mrs. Lorraine spoke again. ‘Where is Lewis?’ ‘Gone home,’ answered Maud briefly. ‘Then he will not be in for tea?’ ‘No; he has gone home. We had a little quarrel, and Lewis got into a huff. I laughed at him, and told him he was like the old peacock who has lost his tail, and looks so silly when he puts on airs. It seemed to annoy him, I’m sure I don’t know why; so he stalked off, looking very dignified and foolish. However, he will soon feel better, and come back as meek as a whipped puppy. I shall be very magnificent when he does.’ And Maud’s pretty mouth curved into a mischievous smile. ‘I am afraid you are a sad tease, my dear,’ said Aunt Olive, gently shaking her head. ‘I think Lewis was made to be teased,’ answered Maud. She smiled, made a little _moue_, and added slowly, ‘You see, if I have to marry him by-and-by, he will be able to have his revenge. But I never can picture Lewis my lord and master.’ ‘I do not think he ever could be that.’ ‘Well, my husband, then,’ said Maud. ‘You know, of course, that he is bent on marrying me?’ ‘Yes, my dear, everyone knows that; but I do not think you are bent on marrying him.’ Maud gave a silent laugh. ‘Well, no, not exactly; but then you know, Aunt Olive, it’s quite possible that I may.’ ‘Do you like him very much?’ ‘Very fairly well; sometimes I like him quite a great deal, and sometimes he bores me terribly. When Phil isn’t here, I don’t mind walking and talking with Lewis; but I’d never go with him a minute if I could have Phil instead.’ Aunt Olive sighed gently. ‘And yet you talk of marrying him!’ ‘One must marry some one, I suppose,’ returned Maud, with a quaint assumption of the air philosophical. ‘It would be much the nicest not to—to let things stay just as they are; but then they won’t stay. Changes always do come, generally unpleasant ones; people get old and ugly (except you, Aunt Olive), and often cross, and I should do the same, I suppose; and then I should so hate to be an old maid!’ ‘Well, my dear, there are many things worse to my mind than being an old maid,’ said little Mrs. Lorraine; ‘but still, you might avoid that fate without marrying Lewis Belassis.’ ‘You mean, I suppose,’ said Maud reflectively, ‘that I might marry somebody else?’ ‘Yes, my deary why not? there are plenty of men in the world.’ ‘Why, so there are, Aunt Olive; but I think there are very few nice ones.’ ‘Is Lewis so nice, then, as to be your model?’ Maud shook her head; her face was grave now, and she spoke with great apparent seriousness.