“You are sure dear Clare is quite well?” she asked. “No little trouble?”
“She is having a slight trouble with her back hair,” said Herbert. “Won’t lie down, you know.”
He laughed loudly, as though he had made a good joke.
Mrs. Atkinson Brown half rose from her chair.
“Oh, let me go to the rescue of the dear thing!”
Herbert was terror-stricken.
“No—no! It was only my joke,” he said eagerly. “She will be here in a minute. Do sit down.”
Mrs. Heywood remembered her promise to “play the game.”
“Won’t you sing something, dear?” she said to her visitor.
“Oh, not so early in the evening,” said the lady. “Besides, I have a most awful cold.”