CUP DAY.
"I do so want to tell you something!" Chloe whispered distractedly to Mrs. Verulam as the house-party separated for the night. "Have you read the World?"
"No; but I have something to——Oh, good night, Mr. Rodney; I hope your rheumatic fever will be better in the morning."
"You are very good to say so," Mr. Rodney said, looking at Chloe as Othello used to look at Iago on bad days; "but I am thoroughly prepared for the worst."
And he remained obstinately between them, as if he meant to grow there for a century or two. Chloe clenched her little fists and longed to box with him.
"Good night, Mr. Bush," said Mrs. Verulam to the paragon.
"Night," he muttered, with a heavy nod.
She hesitated at the foot of the staircase.
"I must tell you——" she began, and paused.