‘No, sir.’

‘How comes that?’

‘It comes by my refusing to go.’

‘Why, my dear?’ said her guardian, looking her innocently in the face.

’Aren’t you glad, sir?—­How do you do, Mr. Kingsland?  Will you be kind enough to explain to Mr. Falkirk the last code of flirtation? while I go and give an order?’

’It is the only thing in which Miss Kennedy is not unsurpassed,—­to make my definition short,’ said the gentleman, taking a chair.  ‘I think she will never learn.’

Primrose Maryland was the immediate next arrival; and she sat down on the other side of Mr. Falkirk, looking as innocent as her name.  Mr. Falkirk had always a particular favour for Primrose.

‘Did you come alone, my dear?’ he incautiously asked; for Mr. Kingsland was at his other elbow.  And Prim knew no better than to answer according to fact.

‘Where is Rollo?’

‘I don’t know, sir.  I suppose he is at home.’

’Doubtless thinking one guardian may suffice—­as it is a mere croquet party,’ said Mr. Kingsland smoothly, but with a covert glance of his eye at Mr. Falkirk.  Both Primrose and Mr. Falkirk glanced at him in return, but his words got no other recognition, for people began to come upon the scene.  And the scene speedily became gay; everybody arriving by the side entrance and passing through the broad hall to the front of the house.  Wych Hazel, returned from her errand, came now slowly through the hall herself with the last arrival.

‘I feared you were ill with fatigue,’ said a pleasant man’s voice.  ’Three times I have called to inquire, and three times gone away in despair.’

‘I was very tired.’

‘But what was the matter?’ said the gentleman, pausing in the doorway.  ’Some call of sudden illness? a demand upon your sympathies?’

‘Nothing of the kind.’

‘How then?’ said Captain Lancaster, with an appearance of great interest.  ’One does not lose a pleasure—­and such a pleasure—­without at least begging to know why.  If it is permitted.  We began to think that the witches must have got hold of you in that dark room.’

‘One did,’ said the girl, so gravely that Captain Lancaster was posed.  She knew perfectly well what ears were listening; but there was something in her nature which always disdained to creep out of a difficulty; so she stood still, and answered as he had spoken, aloud.

‘O, Miss Kennedy,’ cried Molly Seaton, ’that’s a fib.  Not a real witch?’

‘Pretty genuine, I think,’ said Hazel, with her half laugh.

Now there is no way in the world to puzzle people like telling them the truth.  The gentleman and the lady were puzzled.  Stuart Nightingale and half a dozen more came up at the instant; and the question of the game to be played, for the time scattered all other questions.