of the scrape, and first thing you know
we were driving up toward the Square, if you please, to Mrs. Dowager
Diamonds' house.

He thought it was his scheme, the poor lamb, to put me in her charge
till my lost daddy could send for me. He'd no more idea that I was
steering him toward her, that he was doing the only thing possible, the
only square thing by his reputation, than he had that Nance Olden had
been raised by the Cruelty, and then flung herself away on the first
handsome Irish boy she met.

That'll do, Tom.

Girls, if you could have seen Mrs. Dowager Diamonds' face when she came
down the stairs, the Bishop's card in her hand, and into the gorgeous
parlor, it'd have been as good as a front seat at the show.

She was mad, and she was curious, and she was amazed, and she was
disarmed; for the very nerve of his bringing me to her staggered her so
that she could hardly believe she'd seen what she had.

"My dear Mrs. Ramsay," he began, confused a bit by his remembrance of
how her face had looked fifteen minutes before, "I bring to you an
unfortunate child, who mistook my carriage for her father's this
afternoon at the station. She is a college girl, a stranger in town,
and till her father claims her--"

Oh, the baby! the baby! She was stiffening like a rod before his very
eyes. How did his words explain his having his arm round the
unfortunate child? His conscience was so clean that the dear little
man actually overlooked the fact that it wasn't my presence in the
carriage, but his conduct there that had excited Mrs. Dowager Diamonds.

And didn't the story sound thin? I tell you, Tom, when it comes to
lying to a woman you've got to think up something stronger than it
takes to make a man believe in you--if you happen to be female yourself.

I didn't wait for him to finish, but waltzed right in. I danced
straight up to that side of beef with the diamonds still on it, and
flinging my arms about her, turned a coy eye on the Bishop.

"You said your wife was out of town, daddy," I cried gaily. "Have you
got another wife besides mummy?"

The poor Bishop! Do you think he tumbled? Not a bit--not a bit. He
sat there gasping like a fish, and Mrs. Dowager Diamonds, surprised by
my sudden attack, stood bolt upright, about as pleasant to hug as--as
you are, Tom, when you're jealous.

The trouble with the Bishop's set is that it's deadly slow. Now, if I
had really been the Bishop's daughter--all right, I'll g