you'll ever grow up?"

"I hope not"--with great promptitude. "I detest extremely grown-up
people. But what are you brooding over so darkly? Cease those
philosophical reflections in which you've been indulging--it's a positive
vice with you, Penny--and give me some tea."

Penelope laughed and began to pour out tea.

"I half thought Maryon Rooke might be here by now," remarked Nan,
selecting a scone from the golden-brown pyramid on the plate and
carefully avoiding Penelope's eyes. "He said he might look in some time
this afternoon."

Penelope held the teapot arrested in mid-air.

"How condescending of him!" she commented drily. "If he comes--then exit
Penelope."

"You're an ideal chaperon, Penny," murmured Nan with approval.

"Chaperons are superfluous women nowadays. And you and Maryon are so
nearly engaged that you wouldn't require one even if they weren't out of
date."

"Are we?" A queer look of uncertainty showed in Nan's eyes. One might
almost have said she was afraid.

"Aren't you?" Penelope's counter-question flashed back swiftly. "I
thought there was a perfectly definite understanding between you?"