CHAPTER XII.
HOW TITA COMES BACK FROM HER HONEYMOON, AND HOW HER HUSBAND'S MOTHER TELLS HER OF CERTAIN THINGS THAT SHOULD HAVE BEEN LEFT UNTOLD.
"And the weather--the weather was the most marvellous thing!" says Tita, with enthusiasm.

"Perpetual sunshine! Here, in September, it often pelts rain all day long!" _ "Pelts!_ My dear Tita, _what_ a word!" says Lady Rylton.
She sinks back in her chair as if overcome, and presses her perfumed handkerchief to her face.
"What's the matter with it ?" asks Tita, a little smartly, perhaps.
"It's a right-down good word, in my opinion.

I've heard lots of people use it." "No doubt _you_ have," says her mother-in-law.
"Well, so have you, I dare say!" says Tita.
"I expect we all have," says Margaret Knollys, laughing.

"Still, you know, Tita, it's not a pretty word." "Very good; I shan't say it again," says Tita, the mutinous little face of a moment ago now lovely with love.
She has come back from her honeymoon quite as fond of Margaret as when she started.
It is now the middle of September; outside on the lawn the shadows are wandering merrily from tree to tree.

The sun is high, but little clouds running across it now and again speak of sharp rains to come.
"The air so soft, the pines whispering so low, The dragon-flies, like fairy spears of steel, Darting or poised." All these speak of the glad heat that still remains, though summer itself is but a dream that is gone.
Tita's honeymoon is at an end.