Miss Quiney goes off on her errand. Minutes elapse. After many minutes the servant reappears. "Miss Quiney requests Mrs. Harry's attendance." Mrs. Harry goes.
"Women are queer cattle," says Captain Harry sententiously, and talks on. By-and-by the servant appears yet again. Mr. Hanmer is sent for. "Why, 'tis like a story I've read somewhere, about a family sent one by one to stop a tap running," says Captain Harry. "But I'll say this for the women—I'm always the last they bother."
Following the servant, Mr. Hanmer—so runs his report—enters the great drawing-room to find Miss Quiney stretched on the sofa, her face buried in cushions, and Mrs. Harry standing erect and confronting two ladies of forbidding aspect.
"In brief," concluded Mr. Hanmer, "she sent me for you."
"To confront them with her? I wonder what their business can be. . . ." With a glance at his side face she added, "I think you have not told me all."
"No," he confessed haltingly; "that's true enough. In—in fact
Mrs. Harry first employed me to show them to the door."
"And—on the way?"
"Honoured madam—"
"They said—what?—quoting whom?"
"A Mr. Silk. But again—ma'am, I am awkward at lying. I cannot manage it."