"There!" exclaimed Mary, with evident triumph.

"We agree," said Eve, "that some of us should keep ourselves more to ourselves."

And she looked sternly at the triplets. But then she turned and looked sternly at Mary and rose to her feet.

"We think," she said with a j'accuse intonation, "that those who haven't kept themselves to themselves should, and that those who have—shouldn't. Maud and I, for instance, haven't the slightest objection to being fetched for and carried for by attractive young men. Have we, Maud? But hitherto, as must have been obvious to the veriest nincompoop, we have done our own fetching and carrying."

There was a short silence. Mary blushed. Arthur fidgeted. He was wondering if snails preferred the human voice or whistling.

"I'm quite sure," said Maud, "that I haven't been wandering over the hills with future earls, or lost in swamps with interesting invalids, or basked morning after morning in the sunny smile of a gourmet—"

Mary paled under this attack.

"Mr. Langham is altogether different," she said.

"Oh, quite!" cried Lee.

"Utterly, absolutely different!" cried Gay. "To begin with, he's richer; and to end with, he's fatter."

"I shouldn't have said 'fat,'" said Lee. "I should have said 'well-larded,' but then I am something of a stylist."

"Sam Langham," said Mary, "is everybody's friend. And he's an immense help in lots of ways; and then he has a certain definite interest in The Inn. Because, if we need it, he's going to lend us money to carry our accounts."

Gay whispered to Lee behind her hand. Lee giggled.

"What was that?" asked Mary sharply.

"Only a quotation."

"What quotation?"

"Oh, Gay just said something about 'Bought and Paid For.'"

Here Arthur interrupted.

"They're like snails," said he to Mary. "You can only train 'em with infinite patience."

Phyllis rose suddenly and became the cynosure of all eyes except her own, whose particular cynosure at the moment was the floor. She moved toward the door.

"Where are you off to?" asked Mary.

"I'm just going to speak to Chef."

"What about?"

"About some chicken broth."

"For yourself?"

The gentle Phyllis was being goaded beyond endurance. At the door she turned and lifted her great eyes to Mary's.

"No," she said bitterly; "it's for Arthur's snails."

There was a silence.

"If there's any voting," said Phyllis, "I give my proxy to Gay." And she vanished through the door.

"I'm sure," said Mary, "I don't know what the modern young girl is coming to!"

"I know where that one is going to," said Gay; "spilling the chicken broth in her unseemly haste."

Then Arthur spoke.

"The modern young girl," he said, "is coming to just where her grandmother came, and by the same road. Girls will be girls. So let's be thankful that the men who have come here so far have been—men. And hopeful that those who are to come will be also. I've lived too much with nature not to know what's natural—when I see it."