“And do you know what you are?” she challenged him.

“Yes; Age.”

“No.  Flattery.  But I am proof.  I have learned that men are deceivers ever.  You positively refused to see me when I had left word with the servant that I would see you if you called.”  She gave him a swift little glance to see how he took her charge.

“I did nothing of the kind.  I will admit that I should know where you are by instinct, as Sir John knew the Prince; but I did not expect you to insist on my doing so.  How was I to know you were in the city?”

“The servant told you.”

“The servant told me?”

As Keith’s brow puckered in the effort to unravel the mystery, she nodded.

“Um-hum—­I heard him.  I was at the head of the stair.”

Keith tapped his head.

“It’s old age—­sheer senility.”

“‘No; I don’t want to see the other lady,’” she said, mimicking him so exactly that he opened his eyes wide.

“I am staying at Mrs. Wentworth’s—­Cousin Norman’s,” she continued, with a little change of expression and the least little lift of her head.

Keith’s expression, perhaps, changed slightly, too, for she added quietly:  “Cousin Louise had to have some one with her, and I am teaching the children.  I am the governess.”

“I have always said that children nowadays have all the best things,” said Keith, desirous to get off delicate ground.  “You know, some one has said he never ate a ripe peach in his life:  when he was a boy the grown-ups had them, and since he grew up the children have them all.”

She laughed.

“I am very severe, I assure you.”

“You look it.  I should think you might be Herod himself.”

She smiled, and then the smile died out, and she glanced around her.

“I owe you an apology,” she said in a lowered voice.

“For what?”

“For—­mis—­for not answering your letters.  But I mis—­I don’t know how to say what I wish.  Won’t you accept it without an explanation?” She held out her hand and gave him the least little flitting glance of appeal.

“I will,” said Keith.  “With all my heart.”

“Thank you.  I have been very unhappy about it.”  She breathed a little sigh of relief, which Keith caught.

Mrs. Lancaster did not arrive until all the other guests had been there a little while.  But when she entered she had never looked handsomer.  As soon as she had greeted her hostess, her eyes swept around the room, and in their circuit rested for a moment on Keith, who was talking to Lois.  She gave them a charming smile.  The next moment, however, her eyes stole that way again, and this time they bore a graver expression.  The admiration that filled the younger girl’s eyes was unbounded and unfeigned.

“Don’t you think she is the handsomest woman in the room?” she asked, with a nod toward Mrs. Lancaster.

Keith was suddenly conscious that he did not wish to commit himself to such praise.  She was certainly very handsome, he admitted, but there were others who would pass muster, too, in a beauty show.