“Why don’t you get a car, Benis?” she asked inconsequently.  “If you had one, Desire might ride in it some-times, instead of always in Dr. Rogers’.  Can’t you see that it’s dangerous?”

“One has to take risks,” said Spence plaintively.  “John is careless.  But he has never killed anyone yet.”

“You’re impossible, Benis.”

“Yes, I know.  But particularly impossible as a chauffeur.  That’s why I haven’t a car.  What would I do with a driver when I wasn’t using him?  Desire will have a car of her own as soon as she likes to try it.  Aunt won’t drive and I—­don’t.”

This was the first approach to a personal remark the professor had made.  No one was in sight yet and Mary began to hope again.  Once more she tried the gently serious gaze.

“Why not?” she asked, not too eagerly.

Yorick, sunning himself by the door, gave vent to a goblin chuckle.  “Oh, what a pal was M-Mary!  Oh, what a pal—­Nothing doing!” he finished with a shriek and began to flap his wings.

The professor laughed.  “Yorick gets his lessons mixed,” he said.  “But isn’t he a wonder?  Did you ever know a bird who could learn so quickly?”

Mary did not want to talk about birds.  “Do tell me why you dislike driving?” she asked with gentle insistence.

“Oh, I like it.-It’s not that.  I used to drive like Jehu, or John.  Never had an accident.  But when I came back from overseas I found I couldn’t trust my nerve—­no quick judgment, no instinctive reaction--all gone to pieces.  Rather rotten,”

With unerring intuition Mary knew this for a real confidence.  Fortunately she was an expert with shy game.

“Quite rotten,” she said soberly.  He went on.

“It’s little things like that that hit hard.  Not to be One’s own man in a crisis—­d’y’ see?”

Mary nodded.

“But it’s only temporary,” he continued more cheer-fully.  “I’ll try myself out one of these days.  Only, of course, arranged tests are never real ones.  The crisis must leap on one to be of any use.  Some little time ago, when I was at the coast, an incident happened—­a kind of unexpected emergency”—­he paused thoughtfully as a sudden vision of a moon-lit room flashed before him—­“I got through that all right,” he added, “so I’m hopeful.”

“How thrilling,” said Mary.  “Won’t you tell me what it was?”

His eyes met hers with a placidity for which she could have shaken him.

“It wouldn’t interest you,” he said.  “I hear Aunt coming at last.”

Miss Campion’s voice had indeed preceded her.

“Oh, there you are, Mary,” she said with some acidity.  “I told Desire you were sure to be down first.”

“I try to be prompt,” said Mary meekly.  “I have been keeping Benis company until you were ready.”  She spoke to Miss Campion but her slightly mocking eyes watched for some change upon the face of her young hostess.  Desire, as usual, was serene.