Mrs.Walraven departed in state, and dead calm fell upon the house.

Another hour--the waiting twain were growing fidgety and nervous, crackling their newspapers and puffing at their cigars.
"I vow that mad girl is making me as hysterical as a cranky old maid!" growled Mr.Walraven.

"If she doesn't appear in half an hour, I'll go up to her room and carry her down willy-nilly!" "Would yon really be so cruel, guardy ?" said a soft voice, and wheeling round, the astonished pair saw the culprit before them.

"Have you no pity for your poor little Mollie, and can't you let her be as lazy as she pleases?
Good-morning, Sir Roger Trajenna." How lovely Mollie looked! The golden curls fell in a shining shower over the dainty white cashmere robe, belted with blue velvet, soft white lace and a diamond pin sparkling at the rounded throat.

She came forward with a bright smile and outstretched hand to greet them.
"I was cross last night, you know," she said, "and couldn't properly speak to my friends.