ere." She
beckoned to them. "They are shyer than I am."

The elderly ladies came forward and spoke their pleasant words of
congratulation. Mrs. Holmes and others, encouraged, followed their
example. Mrs. Boyce suddenly swooped from the platform into the middle
of the group and kissed Betty, who emerged from the excited lady's
embrace blushing furiously. She shook hands with Betty's aunts and
thanked them for their presence; and in the old lady's mind the
reconciliation of the two houses was complete. Then, with cheeks of a
more delicate natural pink than any living valetudinarian of her age
could boast of, and with glistening eyes, she made her way to me, and
reaching up and drawing me down, kissed me, too.

While all this was going on, the body of the hall began to empty. The
programme had arranged for nothing more by way of ceremonial to take
place. But a public gathering always hopes for something unexpected,
and, when it does not happen, takes its disappointment philosophically.
I think Betty's action must have shown them that the rest of the
proceedings were to be purely private and informal.

The platform also gradually thinned, until at last, looking round, I
saw that only Sir Anthony and Lady Fenimore and Winterbotham, the Town
Clerk, remained. Then Lady Fenimore joined us. We were about a score,
myself perched on the edge and corner of the platform, the rest
standing on the floor of the hall in a sector round me, Marigold, of
course, in the middle of them by my side, like an ill-graven image. As
soon as she could Lady Fenimore came up to me.

"Don't you think it splendid of Betty Connor to bury the hatchet so
publicly?" she whispered.

"The war," said I, "is a solvent of many human complications."

"It is indeed." Then she added: "I am going to have a little dinner
party some time soon for the Boyces. I sounded him to-day and he
practically promised. I'll ask the Lalehams. Of course you'll come. Now
that things have shown themselves so topsy-turvy I've been wondering
whether I should ask Betty."

"Does Anthony know of this dinner party?" I enquired.

"What does it matter whether he does or not?" she laughed. "Dinner
parties come within my province and I'm mistress of it."

Of course Boyce had half promised. What else could he do without
discourtesy? But the banquet which, in her unsuspecting innocence she
proposed, seemed to me a horrible meal. Doubtless it would seem so to
Sir Anthony. At the moment