"Mamma has gone upstairs. I think I must run up and see her a few minutes, Irene. She does not seem to feel quite well to-night; although in some respects I think I never saw her looking better; her eyes were very bright, did you notice? Perhaps she is feverish. Did she speak of having cold?"
"Not at all; I have no idea that she doesn't feel quite well."
"There was something peculiar about her. Didn't she really go out at all to-day? That is certainly unusual; you have seen how particular she is to keep her Friday programme. Irene, I am really afraid that she is ill."
"She isn't ill at all, you fussy boy; I think you are absurd about your mother. You fuss over her as though she were a spoiled child. That is just the word for it."
"Very well," he said good-humouredly. "I must go and 'fuss over' her, enough to know why she overturned her usual programme," and he moved toward the door.
His wife held to his arm and tried to arrest his steps.
"Don't go in, Erskine; it is stuffy inside, and I haven't seen you since morning. As for that programme which worries you so much, if you were not dreadfully stupid to-night you would understand that it is I who overturned it. I ran away with the carriage, I told you—almost as soon as you went yourself. I was so charmed with the idea of seeing the Langhams again that I forgot everything else."
Her husband turned then to look at her, his face expressing surprise.
"Did you take our carriage, dear? I supposed you ordered one from the livery."