"But, dear, it was so foolish of you to do all this! Why didn't you telephone?
Why didn't you get somebody ?" Like an irate little tigress, Billy turned at bay.
"Bertram Henshaw," she flamed angrily, "if you don't go up-stairs and tend to that man up there, I shall _scream_.

Now go! I'll be up when I can." And Bertram went.
It was not so very long, after all, before Billy came in to greet her guest.

She was not stately and imposing in royally sumptuous blue velvet and ermine; nor yet was she cozy and homy in bronze-gold crepe de Chine and swan's-down.

She was just herself in a pretty little morning house gown of blue gingham.

She was minus the dust-cap and the ruffled apron, but she had a dab of flour on the left cheek, and a smutch of crock on her forehead.