With this understanding the friends parted.

After dinner that same day Arthur sat in the drawing-room with Lucy.  He was reading, she working placidly.  She looked off her work demurely at him several times.  He was absorbed in a flighty romance.  “I have dropped my worsted, Arthur.  It is by you.”

Arthur picked the ball up and brought it to her; then back to his romance, heart and soul.  Another sidelong glance at him; then, after a long silence, “Your book seems very interesting.”

“I’ll fling it against the wall if it does not mind,” was the infuriated reply.  “Here are two fools quarreling, page after page, and can’t see, or won’t see, what everybody else can see, that it is an absurd misunderstanding.  One word of common sense would put it all right.”

“Then why not put the book down and talk to me?”

“I can’t.  It won’t let me.  I must see how long the two fools will go on not seeing what everybody else sees.”

“Will not the number of volumes tell you that?”

“Signorina, don’t you try to be satirical!” said the sprightly youth; “you’ll only make a mess of it.  What is the use dropping one drop of vinegar into such a great big honey pot?”

“You are a saucy boy,” retorted Lucy, in tones of gentle approbation.

A long silence.

“Arthur, will you hold this skein for me?”

Arthur groaned.

“Never mind, dear.  I will try and manage with a chair.”

“No you won’t, now; there.”

The victim was caught by the hands.  But with fatal instinctive perverseness he sat in silent amazement watching Lucy’s supple white hand disentangling impossibilities instead of chattering as he was intended to.  Lucy gave a little sigh.  Here was a dreadful business—­obliged to elicit the information she had resolved should be forced upon her.

“By the by, Arthur,” said she, carelessly, “did Mr. Dodd say anything to you on the lawn?”

“What about?”

“About what was said after you went out so ru—­so suddenly.”

“No; why? what was said?  Something about me?  Tell me.”

“Oh, no, dear; as Mr. Dodd did not mention it, it is not worth while.  You must not move your hands, please.”

“Now, Lucy, that is too bad.  It is not fair to excite one’s curiosity and then stop directly.”

“But it is nothing.  Mr. Talboys teased Mr. Dodd a little, that is all, and Mr. Dodd was not so patient as I have seen him on like occasions.  There, you are disentangled at last.”

“Now, signorina, let us talk sense.  Tell me, which do you like best of all the gentlemen that come here?”

“You, dear; only keep your hands still.”

“None of your chaff, Lucy.”

“Chaff! what is that?”

“Flattery, then.  I hope it isn’t that affected fool Talboys, for I hate hun.”

“I cannot undertake to share your prejudices, Mr. Arthur.”