"Oh, no; it is as warm—" began Wythie.
"'As springtime, the only pretty ring time,'" supplemented Basil.
"Wythie, tell me!" insisted Rob.
"Not now; wait until to-night," said Wythie, and escaped with Oswyth Grey's white brocade all bestrewn with violets.
"If I have to wait until to-night there's nothing to wait for; I know this minute," muttered Rob. Then she turned fiercely upon Basil.
"Basil, I thought we could trust you," she said.
"Nonsense, Rob, you knew quite well what was coming," retorted Basil with a quiet laugh of triumph.
"Does that make me like it?" she demanded. "My blessed Wythie! How do you expect me to go down again to the rest?"
"Shall I send Bruce up?" inquired Basil blandly.
Rob bolted for the back-stairs, to the calm atmosphere of Lydia till she should have regained sufficient composure to face her guests and the first romance of this generation in the little grey house.