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right eye disappeared for the fraction of a second under a drooping lid, while the left eye glinted meaningly . . .

"So, after we'd had breakfast," he narrated in conclusion, "I took her back to Yvonne's while she got her own clothes, and then we drove out to East Orange——"

"Yvonne with you?" queried Mrs. Hamill very casually.

"No, she still wouldn't budge. Just Cecily and I. And I met her father and mother. They're wonderful people—you'd like 'em, especially the poppa. He's fat and bald and rubicund, and on the slightest provocation emits guffaws that make the welkin ring. Great guy! He and I got very clubby inside of ten minutes. Mrs. Graves isn't quite so approachable—little bit high hat and grande dame—but she's all right too. They seem to have all kinds of dough. You know that house that sits back in the trees on the right as you go into the town there, mother?—the one with an artificial lake in the lawn and a lot of turrets and things, like a fairy-story castle? Well, that's theirs. I stayed there about an hour, and then came back to Yvonne's again, and we've been talking the situation over ever since. Yvonne thinks I ought to appoint myself Cecily's guardian from now on—sort of look after her and take her around places——"

"Yvonne thinks so?"

Jock, looking up, saw incredulity writ plain on his mother's face, and a faint reflection of "t traced across the features of Saunders Lincoln. 'Sure she does!" he insisted. "Why not? Did you think she'd be jealous, or something? That's absurd. Yvonne isn't that way. And besides, Cecily's only a kid, I tell you! Just a darn cute little kid who needs a bit of looking after.