She reappeared on the threshold, complacently satisfied. She had removed her hood and veils, shaken her ruddy hair into becoming disorder, and knew herself at her best.
"You are enjoying yourself, aren't you?" she demanded.
"Certainly," Gerard responded, without enthusiasm.
"Why not come in, then? Which do you like most to commence a luncheon----Blue Points or little clams? Corrie and I quarrel over that every time we are out together. He is as obstinate as, as--Corrie!"
"Clams," said he, at a venture. He had a vague recollection of seeing Corrie dismiss oysters with scorn, and he felt viciously contrary.
"Why, so do I," agreed Isabel winningly. "Let us order some."
One cannot be disagreeable to a young girl under one's care, who also is in a sense one's hostess. The luncheon was sufficiently gay. The rain fell incessantly, beating against the diamond-paned windows, gurgling down eaves and gutter-ways.
"We should have sailed home in the _Dear Me_," Isabel declared. "I am sure there is enough water on the roads. Why did we not think of it?"
She detached a chrysanthemum petal from the vase of blossoms central on the table, and dropped it into her finger-bowl, watching the agitation of a diminutive scarlet-and-black beetle perched upon the sinking leaf.
She raised her eyes, pouting prettily, and nodded.
"I hate those bugs," she explained. "Ugly animals! We put them in and wager a box of bon-bons on how long they last. If it is still alive at the end of five minutes, I lose. If it is drowned, I win."
"N'no. Corrie doesn't like it. He will step off of a sidewalk into the mud to avoid treading on a cricket. Do you suppose I never play with any one except my cousin? Will you try this wager? _You're_ not silly?"
"I will, if I may. If that lady-bug is alive five minutes from now, I win? No other conditions?"
"None," gleefully. "Take your watch. You'll lose, he's weakening now."
Gerard leaned across, lifted the struggling beetle upon his finger-tip, and restored it to the safe refuge of the chrysanthemum bouquet.
"I believe he will live some time," he soberly predicted.
"No fair! No fair! That's not the game, Mr. Gerard."
"Oh, very well," she shrugged, rising. "I'll take refuge in billiards for the next game. Corrie taught me to play, but I can beat him, now."