"There certainly never is when you are in it, dear," I agreed, and
received such a reward for that as only the Gay Lady knows how to give.

All day she stayed by me, wherever I might be. The Skeptic watched and
waited--he got not the ghost of an opportunity. When I was upon the
porch with the others she was there--and not a minute after.

* * * * *

When evening fell it found the Gay Lady on a cushion close by my knee.
Presently the Philosopher went off with the Lad down to the river. The
Skeptic accompanied them part of the distance, then returned quite
unexpectedly by way of the shrubbery, and swung up over the porch rail
at the end at a moment when the Gay Lady, feeling safe in his absence,
had gone to that end to see the moonlight upon the river.

"'All's fair in love and war,'" exulted the Skeptic, somewhat
breathlessly. It seemed to be a favourite maxim with him. I recalled his
having excused himself for eluding Dahlia by that same well-worn
proverb. "No--don't run! Have I become suddenly so terrifying?"

"Why should you be terrifying?" asked Hepatica. "Come and sit down and
tell us what you've all been doing while I was away."

Her back was toward me. There was a long window open close beside me. My
sympathy was with the Skeptic. I slipped through it.

An hour later I went out upon the porch again. Nobody was there. I sat
down alone, feeling half excited and half depressed, and wholly anxious