"Good hunting, Grandma Chazy," answered Indiana, with a comprehensive look at Lord Stafford. "You see we know our Kipling, Lord Canning."
"I've ordered tea in the boat-house," said Mrs. Bunker.
"I'm glad you did. It would be a pity to leave the lake to-day."
Up in the cozy little room of the boat-house the logs were crackling. Gay sporting prints adorned the green walls.
"Will you have this chair, Miss Stillwater? Right this time? So glad! It was quite an effort, I assure you." He thought as he drew her chair near the fire—"Perhaps I shall not be obliged to make the effort long. What an endless source of pleasure it will be to call her—Indiana!"
"I suppose you're all dying for a cup of tea," said Mrs. Bunker, seating herself at the tea-table, while Lord Stafford sank into an arm-chair near the fire, warming his hands at the blaze.
"Where are the rest?" inquired Indiana.
"Your father and mother are having their tea together on the balcony. They're perfectly happy. I believe, Glen's there too."
"The devotion of your father and mother is very touching to me," remarked Lord Canning.
"They've always been like that—ever since I can remember," said Indiana.