She thought they had come to make purchases, for the store on the Shell Road was often a port of call for the automobiles of the summer colonists.  Suddenly, however, she realized that L’Enfant Terrible was standing up in the driver’s seat and beckoning to her.

“Oh, Miss Grayling!” shrilled Cecile.  “May I come up?  I want to speak to you.”

“No,” commanded Prue firmly, preparing to step out of the car.  “I will speak to Miss Grayling myself.”

“I don’t see why she can’t come down,” drawled Marian, the languid. “I have a message for her.”

“Why!” ejaculated the surprised Louise, “if you all wish to see me I’d better come down, hadn’t I?” and she left the window at once.

She had remarked on the few occasions during the last few days that she had met the Tapp sisters on the beach, that they had seemed desirous of being polite to her—­very different from their original attitude; but so greatly taken up had Louise’s mind been with more important matters that she had really considered this change but little.

Therefore it was with some curiosity that she descended the stairs and went around by the yard gate to the side of the automobile.

“Dear Miss Grayling,” drawled Marian, putting out a gloved hand.  “Pardon the informality.  But mother wants to know if you will help us pour tea at our lawn fete and dance Friday week?  It would be so nice of you.”

Louise smiled quietly.  But she was not a stickler for social proprieties; so, although she knew the invitation savored of that “rawness” of which her aunt had remarked, she was inclined to meet Lawford’s family halfway.  She said: 

“If you really want me I shall be glad to do what I can to make your affair a success.  Tell your mother I will come—­and thank you.”

“So kind of you,” drawled Marian.

But Cecile was not minded to let the interview end so tamely—­or so suddenly.

“Say!” she exclaimed, “did Ford see you, Miss Grayling, before he went away?”

“He has gone away, then?” Louise repeated, and she could not keep the color from flooding into her cheeks.

“He wanted to see you, I’m sure,” Cecile said bluntly.  “But he started off in a hurry.  Had a dickens of a row with dad.”

“Cecile!” admonished Prue.  “That sounds worse than it is.”

Louise looked at her curiously, though she did not ask a question.

“Well, they did have a shindy,” repeated L’Enfant Terrible.   “When
daddy gets on his high horse------”

“Ford wished to see you before he went away, Miss Grayling,” broke in Prue, with an admonitory glare at her young sister.  “He told us he was so confused that day he fell overboard from the Merry Andrew that he did not even thank you for fishing him out of the sea.  It was awfully brave of you.”

“Bully, I say!” cried Cecile.

“Really heroic,” added Marian.  “Mother will never get over talking about it.”