"I wish you would. I should be so glad if you would."

"Then I certainly will. And now I must say good-night, Mr. Westmacott,

for papa will be wondering where I am."

"Good night, Miss Walker." He pulled off his flannel cap, and stalked

away through the gathering darkness.

Clara had imagined that they had been the last on the lawn, but, looking

back from the steps which led up to the French windows, she saw two dark

figures moving across towards the house. As they came nearer she could

distinguish that they were Harold Denver and her sister Ida. The

murmur of their voices rose up to her ears, and then the musical little

child-like laugh which she knew so well. "I am so delighted," she heard

her sister say. "So pleased and proud. I had no idea of it. Your words

were such a surprise and a joy to me. Oh, I am so glad."

"Is that you, Ida?"

"Oh, there is Clara. I must go in, Mr. Denver. Good-night!"

There were a few whispered words, a laugh from Ida, and a "Good-night,

Miss Walker," out of the darkness. Clara took her sister's hand, and

they passed together through the long folding window. The Doctor had

gone into his study, and the dining-room was empty. A single small red

lamp upon the sideboard was reflected tenfold by the plate about it and

the mahogany beneath it, though its single wick cast but a feeble light

into the large, dimly shadowed room. Ida danced off to the big central

lamp, but Clara put her hand upon her arm. "I rather like this quiet

light," said she. "Why should we not have a chat?" She sat in the

Doctor's large red plush chair, and her sister cuddled down upon the

footstool at her feet, glancing up at her elder with a smile upon her

lips and a mischievous gleam in her eyes. There was a shade of anxiety

in Clara's face, which cleared away as she gazed into her sister's frank

blue eyes.

"Have you anything to tell me, dear?" she asked.

Ida gave a little pout and shrug to her shoulder. "The Solicitor-General

then opened the case for the prosecution," said she. "You are going to

cross-examine me, Clara, so don't deny it. I do wish you would have that

grey satin foulard of yours done up. With a little trimming and a new

white vest it would look as good as new, and it is really very dowdy."




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