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Arrived upstairs, Doris makes at once for a secluded niche draped with curtains in one of the windows, wherein she knows she will find Honor ensconced, probably with a book.

The book is at a discount this evening, for Regy Horton, a fair, delicate-looking boy of seventeen, has already arrived, and he and Honor are deep in a discussion about some picture they have lately seen, painting being an art of which they are both passionately fond.

"Now this is really delightful!" exclaims Doris, throwing herself on the wide window-seat beside her sister. "We will just keep here by ourselves until the gentlemen come up, and then I will fetch Hugh and Colonel Danvers, and we will all talk over the 27th."

"That's all very well, Doris, but you can't do just as you like to-night, you know. You will have to talk to people; bless you, your duties are not half over yet. Here comes mother now to fetch you. There, didn't I say so?"

"Doris, you must not hide yourself in a corner," remonstrates Mrs. Merivale, coming up to the little group; "you must come and do your share of talking. And have you brought any of your songs down? I shall expect you to sing by and by."