"Perhaps I could," said Christina, smiling, as she rose to seek a ball which had been hit into the churchyard. "Only, you see, I don't know which of them it was. It wouldn't be fair to give you a list of names to guess from, would it?"
Fortunately Mrs. Willoughby put no further questions to Ruth, who was intensely thankful. "For," as she told Christina afterward, "I was on pins and needles the whole time. I never did know anyone like you for keeping cool under fire!"
"It depends on the fire," Tiny said. "Mrs. Willoughby went off by accident, and luckily she was not pointing at anybody."
"And I'm glad she did, now it's over!" exclaimed Ruth. "Don't you see that I was quite right about your name? So now you need have no more qualms about the garden party."
"Perhaps I've had no qualms for some time; perhaps I've known you were right."
"Since when? Since—since you saw Lord Manister?"
Tiny nodded.
"Do you mean to say you talked about it?" Ruth whispered in delicious awe.
"I mustn't tell you what he talked about. He was as nice as he could be—though I should have preferred to find him less beautifully dressed in the country; but I always felt that about him. I am sure, however, of one thing: he was no more to blame than—I was. I have always felt this about him, too."
"Tiny, dear, if only I could understand you!"