"Cry!" indignantly. "I n--never cry."

"Well, try it for a change. I believe it is strongly recommended and--don't go away. Please."

"I had no idea I was going to be silly," said Desire after a moment, in an annoyed voice.

"It usually comes unexpectedly. Probably you are tired."

Desire wiped her eyes with businesslike thoroughness.

"No. I'm not. I'm suppressed. Do you remember what you said about suppressed emotion the other day? Well, I'm like that, and it's your fault. You bring me to this beautiful home and you never, never once, allow me to thank you properly--oh, I'm not going to do it, so don't look frightened. But one feels so safe here. Benis, it's years and years since I felt just safe."

"I know. I swear every time I think of it"

"Then you can guess a little of what it means?"

Their hands were very close upon the window-sill.

"As a psychologist--" began the professor.

"Oh--No!" murmured Desire.

Their hands almost touched.

And just at that moment Aunt Caroline came in.

"Are you there, Benis?" asked Aunt Caroline unnecessarily. "I wish you would come in and take--oh, I did not mean you to come in through the window. If Olive saw you! But a Spence has no idea of dignity. Now that you are in, I wish you would take Desire up to your room. I wired Olive to prepare the west room. It is grey and pink, so nice for Desire who is somewhat pale. The bed is very comfortable, too, and large. But, of course, if you prefer any other room you will change. Desire, my dear, it is your home, I do not forget that. I have had your bags carried up.

Benis can manage his own."

If Desire were pale naturally, she was more than pale now. Her frightened eyes fluttered to her husband's face and fluttered away again. Why had she never thought of this! Sheer panic held her quiet in the straight-backed chair.

But Spence, without seeming to notice, had seen and understood her startled eyes.

"Thanks, Aunt," he said cheerfully. "Of course Desire must make her own choice. But if she takes my tip she will stay where you've put her.

It's a jolly room. As for me, I'm going up to my old diggings--thought I'd told you."

"What!"

Aunt Caroline's remark was not a question. It was an explosion.

Spence dropped his bantering manner.

"My dear Aunt. I hate to disturb your arrangements with my eccentricities. But insomnia is a hard master. I must sleep in my old room. We'll consider that settled."

"Humph!" said Aunt Caroline.

Like the house, she was somewhat old fashioned.

CHAPTER XX

Tea had been laid on the west lawn under the maples.

Possibly some time in the past the Spences had been a leisured people.

They had brought from the old country the tradition of afternoon tea.

Many others had, no doubt, done the same but with these others the tradition had not persisted. In the more crowded life of a new country they had let it go. The Spences had not let it go. It wasn't their way.

And in time it had a.s.sumed the importance of a survival. It stood for some-thing. Other Bainbridgers had "Teas." The Spences had "tea."

Desire had been in her new home a month and had just made a remark which showed her astonished Aunt Caroline that tea was no more of a surprise to her than fireplaces had been.

"Do you mean to tell me you have always had tea?" Miss Campion ceased from pouring in pure surprise.

"Why, yes." Desire's surprise was even greater than Aunt Caroline's.

"Li Ho never dreamed of forgetting tea. He served it much more regularly than dinner because sometimes there wasn't any dinner to serve. It was a great comfort--the tea, I mean."

"But how extraordinary! And a Chinaman, too."

"I suppose my mother trained him."

"And Vancouver isn't Bainbridge," put in Benis lazily. "A great many people there are more English than they are in England. All the old-time Chinese 'boys' served tea as a matter of course."

"Even when no one was calling?"

"Absolutely sans callers of any kind."

"Well, I am sure that is very nice." But it was plain from Aunt Caroline's tone that she thought it a highly impertinent infringement upon the privileges of a Spence. She poured her nephew's cup in aloof silence and refreshed herself with a second before re-entering the conversation. When she did, it was with something of a bounce.

"Benis," she said abruptly, "can you tell me just exactly what is a Primitive?"

"Eh?" The professor had been trying to read the afternoon News-Telegram and sip tea at the same time.

Aunt Caroline repeated her question.

"Certainly," said Spence. "That is to say, I can be fairly exact. Would you like me to begin now? If you have nothing to do until dinner I can get you nicely started. And there is a course of reading--"

Aunt Caroline stopped him with dignity. "Thank you, Benis. I infer that the subject is a complicated one. Therefore I will word my question more simply. Would an Indian, for instance, be considered a Primitive?"

"Um--some Indians might."

"Oh," thoughtfully, "then I suppose that is what Mrs. Stopford Brown meant."

Her delighted listeners exchanged an appreciative glance.

"Very probably," said Benis, with tact, "were you discussing Primitives at the Club?"

"No. Though it might be rather a good idea, don't you think? If, as you say, there is a course of reading, it would be sufficiently literary, I suppose? At present we are taking up psycho-a.n.a.lysis--dreams, you know.

It was not my choice. As a subject for club study I consider it too modern. Besides, I seldom dream. And when I do, my dreams are not remarkable. However, it seems that all dreams are remarkable. And I admit that there may be something in it. Take, for instance, a dream which I had the other night. I dreamed that I was endeavoring to do my hair and every time I put my hand on a hairpin that horrible parrot of yours snapped it up and swallowed it. Now, according to psycho-a.n.a.lysis, that dream has a meaning. Understood rightly it discloses that I have, in my waking moments, a repressed feeling of intense dislike for that hateful bird. And it is quite true. I have. So you can see how useful that kind of thing might be in getting at the truth in cases of murder. I hope," turning to Desire, "I hope I am not being too scientific for you, my dear? When the ladies feel that they know you better you may perhaps join our club, if you care for anything so serious? May I give you more tea?"