"I wonder," remarked the Doctor, after watching the quartette for a while, "what mischief those girls are plotting?"
The Soldier adjusted his eyeglass and looked across the room. "Probably asking for his autograph," he answered, cynically. "What I want to know is where my teacher has gone to—Miss Sybil."
"I saw her go out into the garden some time ago," said the Doctor. "By Gad, but I'm sorry about this afternoon!"
The Soldier pulled at his cigar. "I am not well versed in the family history," he murmured, "and the connection is a trifle obscure."
"That confounded dog!" answered the Doctor. "Those two are head over heels in love with one another."
"And you think——?"
"My dear fellow," said the Doctor, "Sybil is one of the dearest girls in the country. I brought her into the world; in many ways she is like my own daughter. But—she is a girl. And if I know anything about the sex, she'd find it easier to forgive him if he'd stolen."
A peal of laughter from the quartette opposite made both men look up. Seymour was nodding his head resignedly and Madge Saunderson was clapping her hands together with glee.
"Don't forget," her voice came clearly across the room, "we'll pretend it's a bet."
It was at that moment that Sybil appeared in the window, and the Soldier let his eyes dwell on the girl approvingly.