Every one promptly forgot Takahiro in the excitement of the game we were all playing. Finally, however, Aunt Selina, who seemed to have Takahiro on her mind, looked up from her plate. “That Jap was speckled,” she asserted. “I wouldn’t be surprised if it’s measles. Has he been sniffling, James?” “Has he been sniffling?” Jim threw across at me. “I hadn’t noticed it,” I said meekly, while the others choked. Max came to the rescue. “She refused to eat it,” he explained, distinctly and to everybody, apropos absolutely of nothing. “It said on the box, ‘ready cooked and predigested.’ She declared she didn’t care who cooked it, but she wanted to know who predigested it.” As every one wanted to laugh, every one did it then, and under cover of the noise I caught Anne’s eye, and we left the dining room. The men stayed, and by the very firmness with which the door closed behind us, I knew that Dallas and Max were bringing out the bottles that Takahiro had hidden. I was seething. When Aunt Selina indicated a desire to go over the house (it was natural that she should want to; it was her house, in a way) I excused myself for a minute and flew back to the dining room. It was as I had expected. Jim hadn’t cheered perceptibly, and the rest were patting him on the back, and pouring things out for him, and saying, “Poor old Jim” in the most maddening way. And the Harbison man was looking more and more puzzled, and not at all hilarious. I descended on them like a thunderbolt. “That’s it,” I cried shrewishly, with my back against the door. “Leave her to me, all of you, and pat each other on the back, and say it’s gone splendidly! Oh, I know you, every one!” Mr. Harbison got up and pulled out a chair, but I couldn’t sit; I folded my arms on the back. “After a while, I suppose, you’ll slip upstairs, the four of you, and have your game.” They looked guilty. “But I will block that right now. I am going to stay--here. If Aunt Selina wants me, she can find me--here!” The first indication those men had that Mr. Harbison didn’t know the state of affairs was when he turned and faced them. “Mrs. Wilson is quite right,” he said gravely. “We’re a selfish lot. If Miss Caruthers is a responsibility, let us share her.” “To arms!” Jim said, with an affectation of lightness, as they put their glasses down, and threw open the door. Dal’s retort, “Whose?” was lost in the confusion, and we went into the library. On the way Dallas managed to speak to me. “If Harbison doesn’t know, don’t tell him,” he said in an undertone. “He’s a queer duck, in some ways; he mightn’t think it funny.” “Funny,” I choked. “It’s the least funny thing I ever experienced. Deceiving that Harbison man isn’t so bad--he thinks me crazy, anyhow. He’s been staring his eyes out at me--” “I don’t wonder. You’re really lovely tonight, Kit, and you look like a vixen.” “But to deceive that harmless old lady--well, thank goodness, it’s nine, and she leaves in an hour or so.”