e--but the
next instant his face was gravity itself. With every word she grew
less and less like the Mrs. De Peyster of M. Dubois's masterpiece. At
the close of the long narrative, made longer by frequent outbursts of
misery, she could have posed for a masterpiece of humiliation.

"It's all been bad enough," she moaned at the end; "what's happened
is all bad enough, but think what's yet to come! It's all coming out!
Everybody will be laughing at me--oh!--oh!--oh!--"

Mrs. De Peyster was drifting away into inarticulate lamentations, when
there came a tramping sound upon the stairway. She drew herself up.

"What's that?"

There was a loud rap upon the door.

"I say, Judge Harvey, Mr. De Peyster," called out a voice. "What's all
this delay about?"

"Who is it?" breathed Mrs. De Peyster.

"That infernal Mayfair, and the whole gang of reporters!" exclaimed
Jack.

"Oh, Jack,--Judge Harvey! Save me! Save me!"

"The hour set for the funeral is passed," Mayfair continued to call,
"the drawing-room is packed with people, and the body hasn't arrived
yet. We don't want to make ourselves obnoxious, but it's almost
press-time for the next edition, and we've got to know what's doing.
You know what a big story this is. Understand--we've simply got to
know!"

"Judge--what the devil _are_ we going to do?" breathed Jack.

"My God, Caroline, Jack,--this is awful!" Judge Harvey whispered
desperately. "We simply can't keep this out of the papers, and when it
does get out--"

"Oh! Oh!" moaned Mrs. De Peyster.

"Judge Harvey," called the impatient Mr. Mayfair, "you really must
tell us what's up!"

Judge Harvey and Jack and Mary regarded each other in blank
desperation; Mrs. De Peyster and Olivetta and Matilda were merely
different varieties of jellied helplessness.

"Judge Harvey," Mr. Mayfair called again, "we simply must insist!"

"Caroline," falteringly whispered Judge Harvey, "I don't see what
we--"

"Pardon me," whispered Mr. Pyecroft, gently stepping forward among
them. Then he raised his voice: "Wait just one minute, gentlemen! You
shall know everything!"

"Oh, Mr. Pyecroft, don't, don't!" moaned Mrs. De Peyster. "Judge
Harvey--Jack--don't let him! Send them away! Put it off! I can't stand
it!"

But Mr. Pyecroft, without heeding her protest, and unhampered by the
others, stepped to Olivetta's side.

"Miss Harmon," he whispered rapidly, "did you obey Mrs. De
Peyster's instructions on your voyage home? About k