Guard your tongue well,

An angry word is soon spoken,

The hour will come, the hour will come,

When you will stand and mourn by graves.

Not really a very cheerful verse to teach a child, but she always said I had a heedless tongue. Oh dear, it all seems so long ago.” She strayed on, saying vaguely, “I really think I heard a car. Did anyone else hear it?”

From a little distance it was possible to observe that she was wearing what would have been a perfectly good black lace dress if she had not had the bright idea of relieving it with some bits of faded fur, a couple of purple bows, and a large bunch of rather tumbled violets. There her attempts at adornment ceased. She displayed indeterminate features quite innocent of any effort in that direction. It was even doubtful whether they so much as knew the touch of a powder-puff.

Jonathan Field looked at his watch and said,.

“ Georgina ought to be down. Where is she? She and Mirrie -they ought both to be here.”

A very small voice said, “Oh, Uncle Jonathan-” and there beside them was a little creature in a white dress. She had dark curls, and the dress was all soft fluffy frills. She hung on Jonathan’s arm and looked up at him with pansy-brown eyes.

“Don’t-oh please don’t be vexed! She won’t be long-she really won’t. I expect it was my fault-she was helping me. And it’s going to be such a lovely party. You mustn’t be vexed.” She was tugging at his arm like a child, but so softly as to give the effect of a caress.

Jonathan Field smiled indulgently. Anthony said, “Hullo, Mirrie!” and Frank Abbott found himself being introduced. The brown eyes transferred their upward look. They were of exactly the same shade as the clustering curls, but the lashes were darker, though whether this was due to nature or to art it was impossible to discern.