ROSARY. I had set my heart on it. The whole decoration of the room
is planned to suit that song--festoons of white roses; and a great
red-cross at the back of the platform, made entirely of crimson
ramblers. Jane!"

"Yes, aunt."

"Oh, don't say 'Yes, aunt,' in that senseless way! Can't you make
some suggestion?"

"Drat the woman!" exclaimed Tommy, suddenly.

"Hark to that sweet bird!" cried the duchess, her good humour fully
restored. "Give him a strawberry, somebody. Now, Jane, what do you
suggest?"

Jane Champion was seated with her broad back half turned to her
aunt, one knee crossed over the other, her large, capable hands
clasped round it. She loosed her hands, turned slowly round, and
looked into the keen eyes peering at her from under the mushroom
hat. As she read the half-resentful, half-appealing demand in them,
a slow smile dawned in her own. She waited a moment to make sure of
the duchess's meaning, then said quietly: "I will sing THE ROSARY
for you, in Velma's place, to-night, if you really wish it, aunt."

Had the gathering under the tree been a party of "mere people," it
would have gasped. Had it been a "freak party," it would have been
loud-voiced in its expressions of surprise. Being a "best party," it
gave no outward sign; but a sense of blank astonishment, purely
mental, was in the air. The duchess herself was the only person