to
Ridgefield with Susy. If Susy hadn't been stupid she'd have made you go
there with her. I hate to think of you up here all alone."

Again Mrs. Lidcote tried to read something more than a rather obtuse
devotion in her daughter's radiant gaze. "I'm glad to have had a rest
this afternoon, dear; and later--"

"Oh, yes, later, when all this fuss is over, we'll more than make up for
it, sha'n't we, you precious darling?" And at this point Leila had been
summoned to the telephone, leaving Mrs. Lidcote to her conjectures.

These were still floating before her in cloudy uncertainty when Miss
Suffern tapped at the door.

"You've come to take me down to tea? I'd forgotten how late it was,"
Mrs. Lidcote exclaimed.

Miss Suffern, a plump peering little woman, with prim hair and a
conciliatory smile, nervously adjusted the pendent bugles of her
elaborate black dress. Miss Suffern was always in mourning, and always
commemorating the demise of distant relatives by wearing the discarded
wardrobe of their next of kin. "It isn't _exactly_ mourning," she would
say; "but it's the only stitch of black poor Julia had--and of course
George was only my mother's step-cousin."

As she came forward Mrs. Lidcote found herself humorously wondering
whether she were mourning Horace Pursh's divorce in one of his mother's
old black satins.

"Oh, _did_ you mean to go down for tea?" Susy Suffern peered at her, a
little fluttered. "Leila sent me up to keep you company. She thought it
would be cozier for you to stay here. She was afraid you were feeling
rather tired."

"I was; but I've had the whole afternoon to rest in. And this wonderful
sofa to help me."

"Leila told me to tell you that she'd rush up for a minute before
dinner, after everybody had arrived; but the train is always dreadfully
late. She's in despair at not giving you a sitting-room; she wanted to
know if I thought you really minded."

"Of course I don't mind. It's not like Leila to think I should." Mrs.
Lidcote drew aside to make way for the housemaid, who appeared in the
doorway bearing a table spread with a bewildering variety of tea-cakes.

"Leila saw to it herself," Miss Suffern murmured as the door closed.
"Her one idea is that you should feel happy here."

It struck Mrs. Lidcote as one more mark of the subverted state of
things that her daughter's solicitude should find expression in the
multiplicity of sandwiches and the piping-hotness of muffins; but then
everythi