’Can you prove it?  But apropos, I am right in supposing that you are fond of music?  That is true, isn’t it?’

’Very true!’—­But she was thinking.—­’Mr. Rollo, how can you always say what you mean, without saying what you do not mean?’ she asked suddenly.

‘Choose your audience,’ said Rollo.

‘I like to say what I mean to anybody!’

’It is a great luxury.  But the corresponding luxury of being understood, is not always at command.  Have you been puzzling Mr. Nightingale?’ he asked in an amused voice.

’Only presenting my ideas wrong end first, as usual.  Is Miss Fisher here to-night?—­and do you like her, Mr. Rollo?’

’Miss Fisher?—­Kitty?—­I have not seen her since I came home from Europe.  But there is Prim.  I must go and take care of her.’

He disappeared.  The walk and talk of the two others was prolonged, until faint sweet notes of wind instruments from afar called them to join the rest of the world.

There was quite a little company gathered at this point, a small clearing in the shrubbery around one side of which seats were placed.  Here the music lovers (and some others) were ranged, in a tiny semi-circle, half in shadow, half in light, as the lamps and moonbeams served.  The light came clear upon half the little spot of greensward; glittering on leaves and branches beyond, glanced on the tops of trees higher up.  A lively chitter-chatter was going on, after the fashion of such companies, when Wych Hazel came up, but a moment after the first notes of the music struck their ears, and all was as hushed as the moonlight itself.  Only the notes of the harmony floated in and out through the trees; nothing else moved.

Mrs. Powder had managed to secure some good musical talent, for the performance was of excellent quality.  Perhaps summer air and moonbeams helped the effect.  At any rate, the first performance, a duet between a flute and a violin, was undoubtedly listened to; and that is saying much.  The performers were out of sight.  Then a fine soprano voice followed, in a favourite opera air.

Wych Hazel was seated near one end of the semi-circle, with Primrose just behind her; both of them in shadow.  Rollo had been standing in the full light just before them; but during the singing he was beckoned away and the spot was clear.  In two minutes more Stuart Nightingale had brought a camp chair to Wych Hazel’s side.  He was quiet till the song was over and the little gratified buzz of voices began.  Under this cover he spoke low—­

‘Have you two guardians, Miss Kennedy?’

‘One has answered all my purposes hitherto,’ she answered with a laugh.  ‘Do I seem to need another?’

’Seem to have another.  Pardon me.  Do you like to be taken care of?’ He spoke in her own tone.

‘By myself—­best!  If I must speak the truth.’

’Ah, I thought so! who else can do it so well?  A fine woman needs no other control than her own.  Am I to be disappointed of that ride?’ He was speaking very softly.