"The men change, of course, after they've been playing tennis, but we—we—well, you see, you haven't been playing," she concluded, quite breathlessly.     

       At that instant the sprightly Feltons dashed pell mell down the steps and across the lawn homeward, shrieking something unintelligible to Mrs. King as they passed.     

       "Rather skittish," observed Mr. Blithers, glaring after them disapprovingly.     

       "They are dears," said Mrs. King.     

       "The—er—Prince attracted by either one of 'em?" he queried.     

       "He barely knows them, Mr. Blithers."     

       "I see. Shouldn't think they'd appeal to him. Rather light, I should say—I mean up here," and he tapped his forehead so that she wouldn't think that he referred to pounds and ounces. "I don't believe Maud knows 'em, as the little one said. Maud is rather—"     

       "It is possible they have mistaken some one else for your daughter," said she very gently.     

       "Impossible," said he with force.     

       "They are coming back here to dinner," she said, and her eyes sparkled with mischief. "I shall put you between them, Mr. Blithers. You will find that they are very bright, attractive girls."     

       "We'll see," said he succinctly.     

       King caught them up at the top of the steps. He seemed to be slightly out of breath.     

       "Make yourself at home, Mr. Blithers. I must get into something besides these duds I'm wearing," he said. "Would you like to—er—wash up while we're—"     

       "No, thanks," interposed Mr. Blithers. "I'm as clean as a whistle. Don't mind me, please. Run along and dress, both of you. I'll sit out here and—count the minutes," the last with a very elaborate bow to Mrs. King.     

       "Dinner's at half-past eight," said she, and disappeared. Mr. Blithers recalled his last glance at his watch, and calculated that he would have at least fifty minutes to count, provided dinner was served promptly on the dot.     

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