How irritating the weather always is, Christine thought. For though she was willing to use scandal as a weapon over Riatt, she was not sure that she wished to put it into Hickson’s hands. She thought hard, and then said brightly: “Oh, perhaps he came back for his breakfast before I was up.” Hickson shook his head: “They only lead one way,” he said. In the face of the tactlessness of hard facts, Christine decided to create a diversion. “I can’t stand here gossiping about the conduct of an aviator,” she said, “when there’s so much to be done. Look at all these dirty plates. What ought to be done with them, Edward, dear?” she appealed to him as to a fountain of wisdom, and he did not fail her. “They ought to be washed,” he said. “Give me a towel. I’ll do it.” And he felt more than rewarded when, as she handed him a towel, her hand touched his. The many duties of which she had just spoken seemed suddenly to have melted away, for she sat down quite idly and watched him. “How well you do it, Edward,” she said, not quite honestly, for she compared his slow gestures very unfavorably with Riatt’s deft hands. “It’s quite as if you had washed dishes all your life.” “Ah, Christine,” he answered, looking at her sentimentally over a coffee-cup, “I shouldn’t ask anything better than to wash your dishes for the rest of my life.” “Thank you, Edward, but I think I should ask something a good deal better,” she answered. It was on this scene that Ussher and Riatt entered, and the eyes of the latter twinkled. “Engaged a kitchen-maid, I see,” he said in a low tone to Christine. “I think it’s so good for people to do something useful now and then, don’t you?” “A form of education that you offer almost every one who comes near you.” Hickson did not hear everything, but he caught the idea, and said severely: “I don’t suppose any one would ask Miss Fenimer to wash dirty dishes.” Riatt laughed: “No one who had ever seen her try.” Ussher, who had been fuming in the background, now broke out: “Upon my word, Christine, that tool-house was like a vault. It was madness to ask any one to spend the night in such a place.” “Did you spend the night in the tool-house?” said Hickson with unusual directness. “There are worse places than the tool-house,” said Riatt, as he and Ussher hurried down to the cellar to put out the furnace fire. Hickson turned to Christine. “The fellow didn’t answer me,” he said. “Perhaps he thought it was none of your business, Edward, my dear,” she answered. “Everything connected with you is my business,” he returned. “Oh, Edward, what a dreary outlook for me!” “Christine, answer me. Did or did not this man make advances to you?” “Edward, he did.” “What happened?” “He gave me a long, tiresome, moral lecture and, judging by you, my dear, that is proof of affection.” “You’re simply amusing yourself with me!” “I’m not amusing myself very much, Edward, if that’s any comfort.”