“You know I don’t!  But——­”

“We’ve had nothing but ‘buts’ since I told you.  I should have left you a note and slipped out.”  She bestowed upon the worried face a pecking little kiss and tiptoed to the door.

“Wait, Gloria!  What shall I tell every one?  They’re your guests, after all——­”

“Tell them I asked to be excused for the day.  Beyond that you are rather good at smoothing out things.  I’ll trust you.”

“But—­I mean and—­and Mr. Gratton?”

“Oh, tell him to go to the devil!” cried Gloria.  “It will do him no end of good.”  And while Mrs. Gaynor stared after her she closed the door softly and went tiptoeing downstairs and out into the brightening dawn, where Mark King awaited her with the horses.

From behind a window-curtain Gloria’s mother watched the girl tripping away through the meadow to the stable, set back among the trees.  King was leading the saddled horses to meet her; Gloria gave him her gauntleted hand in a greeting the degree of friendliness of which was gauged by the clever eyes at the window; friendliness already arrived at a stage of intimacy.  King lifted Gloria into her saddle; Gloria’s little laugh had in it a flutter of excitement as her cavalier’s strength took her by delighted surprise and off her feet.  They rode away through the thinning shadows.  Mrs. Gaynor, despite the earliness of the hour, went straight to her husband, awoke him mercilessly, and told him everything.

“Oh,” he said when she had done and he had turned over for another hour or so of sleep, “that’s all right.  Mark told me about it last night.”

“And you didn’t say a word to me!”

“Forgot,” said Ben.  “But don’t worry.  Mark’ll take care of her.”

She left him to his innocent slumbers and began dressing.  Already she was busied with planning just what to say and how to say it; Gloria knew, she thought with some complacency, that her mother could be depended upon in any situation demanding the delicate touch.  She would be about, cool and smiling, when the first guest appeared; it would be supposed that she and Gloria and Mr. King had been quite a merry trio as the morning adventure was being arranged.  That first guest stirring would be Mr. Gratton on hand to pounce on Gloria and get her out of the house for a run down to the lake, a dash in a canoe, or a brief stroll across the meadow before the breakfast-gong.  Instead of Gloria’s terse message for him, she had quite an elaborate and laughing tale to tell.  After all, Gloria usually did know what she was about, and if Mr. Gratton meant all that he looked—­Mrs. Gaynor had cast up a rough draft of everything she would say that morning before she opened the door to go downstairs.  And for reasons very clear to her and which she had no doubt would be viewed with equal clarity by Gloria after this “escapade” of hers was done with, she meant to be very tactful indeed with Mr. Gratton.