"Come here and give account," commanded Suzanne the instant he appeared. "Every unmarried man vanished the moment twilight fell. You are the last to show your face. I challenge you, one and all, to swear that you have not been within sight of a certain small brown house at the foot of the hill since supper."
Her voice was music; in her eyes was laughter. Marie sang on, pointing her words with smiles at one and another of the culprits.
From his seat on the threshold of the door, where his head rested against Juliet's knee as she sat behind him, Anthony laughed to himself. Then he turned his head and whispered to his wife: "Feel the claws through the velvet? Poor boys, they have my sympathy."
"Rachel," said Juliet decisively, next morning, "to-night is the last of my house party, and I refuse to let you off. I'm asking ten or twelve more people out from town. You must spend this evening with my guests, or forfeit my friendship."
She was smiling as she said it, but her tone was not to be denied.
"If that is the alternative," Rachel answered, returning the smile with an affectionate look of a sort which neither Louis Lockwood nor Stevens Cathcart nor Dr. Roger Barnes had ever seen on her face--though they had dreamed of it--"of course I shall stay. But I'll tell you frankly I would rather not."
"I think you know why not, Mrs. Robeson," Rachel answered.
"Yes, I know why not," admitted Juliet. "Girls are queer things, Ray. They defeat their own ends all the time--lots of them. Suzanne and Marie are dear girls, with ever so many nice things about them, but they don't--they don't know enough not to pursue, chase, run down, the object of their desires. And, of course, the object, being run down panting, into a corner, dodges, evades, gets out and runs away. Rachel, dear, what are you going to wear to-night?"
"To the elbows. It was my sophomore evening dress."
"It will be all right, I know. Rachel, wear a white rose in those low black braids of yours--will you?"
Rachel did not answer. Into her cool cheek crept a tinge of rebellious, telltale colour.
Juliet studied her a minute in silence, then came up to her and laying both hands on her shoulders looked up into her eyes.
"You try to 'play fair,' don't you, dear?" she said heartily, "whatever the rest may do. And whatever they may do, Rachel Redding, don't you care. It's not your fault that they are as jealous of you as girls can be and keep sweet outside. I'd be jealous of you myself if----" She paused, laughing.