Gray, still serious, said:  “Unless we are outside of the danger zone I think father ought to teach me something about business.”

“If we blow up,” observed Cecile, “I’ll do clever monologues and support everybody.  I’d like that.  And Shiela already writes poetry—­”

“Nonsense!” said Shiela, very pink.

“Shiela!  You do!”

“I did in school—­” turning pinker under Hamil’s tormenting gaze.

“And you do yet!  I found an attempt on the floor—­in your flowing penmanship,” continued the pitiless younger sister.  “What is there to blush about?  Of course Phil and I were not low enough to read it, but I’ll bet it was about somebody we all know!  Do you want to bet—­Garry?”

“Cecile!” said her mother mildly.

“Yes, mother—­I forgot that I’m not allowed to bet, but if I was—­”

Shiela, exasperated, looked at her mother, who shook her head and rose from the table, taking Hamil’s arm.

“You little imp!” breathed Shiela fiercely to Cecile, “if you plague me again I’ll inform Mr. Hamil of what happened to you this morning.”

“I don’t care; Garry is part of the family,” retorted Cecile, flushed but defiant and not exactly daring to add:  “or will be soon.”  Then she put both arms around Shiela, and holding her imprisoned: 

“Are you in love?—­you darling!” she whispered persuasively.  “Oh, don’t commit yourself if you feel that way!...  And, O Shiela, you should have seen Phil Gatewood following me in love-smitten hops when I wouldn’t listen!  My dear, the creature managed to plant both feet on my gown as I fled, and the parquet is so slippery and the gown so flimsy and, oh, there was a dreadful ripping sound and we both went down—­”

Shiela was laughing now, holding her sister’s gesticulating hands, as she rattled on excitedly: 

“I got to my feet in a blaze of fury, holding my gown on with both hands—­”

“Cissy!”

“And he gave one horror-stricken look and ran—­”

Swaying there together in the deserted dining-room, they gave way to uncontrolled laughter.  Laughter rang out from the living-room, too, where Gray was informing Mrs. Cardross and Hamil of the untoward climax to a spring-time wooing; and when Shiela and Cecile came in the latter looked suspiciously at Hamil, requesting to know the reason of his mirth.

“Somebody will have to whisper it to you in rhyme,” said Hamil; “it’s not fit for prose, Cissy.”

Mrs. Cardross retired early.  Gray went for a spin in his motor.  Cecile, mischievously persuaded that Hamil desired to have Shiela to himself for half an hour, stifled her yawns and bedward inclinations and remained primly near them until Gray returned.

Then the four played innocuous Bridge whist until Cecile’s yawns could no longer be disguised; and finally Gray rose in disgust when she ignored the heart-convention and led him an unlovely spade.