Norah did not encounter the newcomer again until dinner-time.

She was in the drawing-room, waiting for the gong to sound, when Cecil
came in with her father. For a moment he did not recognize the soaked
waif of the garden whom he had recommended "to go round to the back."

A hot bath and a change of raiment had restored Norah to her usual
self; had helped her also to laugh at her meeting with her cousin,
although she was still ruffled at the memory of the sneer in his laugh.
Perhaps because of that she had dressed more carefully than usual.
Cecil might have been excused for failing to recognize the grave-faced
maiden, very dainty in her simple frock of soft white silk, with her
still-moist curls tied back with a broad white ribbon.

"As you two have already met, there's no need to introduce you," said
Mr. Linton, a twinkle in his eye. "Sorry your reception was so
informal, Cecil--you took us by surprise."

"I suppose the mater mixed things up, as usual," Cecil said, in a bored
way. "I certainly intended all along to get here to-day, but she's
fearfully vague, don't you know. I was lucky in getting a lift out."

"You certainly were," his uncle said, dryly. "However, I'm glad you
didn't have to wait in the township. You'd have found it slow."

"I'd probably have gone back," said Cecil.

"Ah--would you?" Mr. Linton looked for a moment very much as though he
wished he had done so. There was an uncomfortable pause, to which the
summons to dinner formed a welcome break.