Richards staggered and wrestled vainly with tatting-bag and
bundles and a refractory skirt. For the moment both women were stalled
in a desperate effort to retain their equilibrium.

"Come!" gasped Claire. "Let's get over there in the shelter of that
automobile."

They made the leeward side of the automobile in question, and while Mrs.
Richards began to recover her roughly handled dignity Claire turned her
attention to the car. It was a huge dark-red affair, evidently fresh
from the shop. Claire knew none of the fine points of automobiles, but
this one had unmistakable evidences of distinction. She was peering in
at its opulent depths when who should surprise her but Ned Stillman.

"My dear Miss Robson!" he cried, in a tone of delight, as he faced her
from the opposite side of the car. "What do you think of it?"

"Yours?" she queried.

"Just out of the shop to-day. I couldn't wait until it cleared. I just
had to get out with it. And this kind of weather always puts me up on my
toes. Where are you going--to Ross? If you are, don't bother with the
train. Come along with me."

He circled about the machine and came up to her with a frank,
outstretched hand. "Oh, I beg your pardon!" he murmured as Mrs. Richards
came into view.

Claire began an introduction, but Mrs. Richards cut in with her odd,
challenging way.

"Oh, _I_ know Mr. Stillman! But I guess he's forgotten _me_. It's been
some years, of course. At Mr. Faville's--your _wife's_ father's house."

Stillman paled for the briefest of moments, but he recovered himself
cleverly. "Mrs. Richards--of course! How do you do? It _has_ been some
years."

"I'm going to Mr. Flint's--at Yolanda," said Claire, "to take some
dictation. He's been ill, you know."

"Ill? No, I hadn't heard it. Nothing serious, I hope."

"Not serious enough to keep Mrs. Flint at home, anyway," volunteered
Mrs. Richards, in her characteristically disagreeable way.

"Mrs. Richards saw Mrs. Flint and the children coming off the boat...."

"As I got on," interrupted the lady again.

"Oh, indeed, is that so?" Claire fancied that Stillman's tone held
something more than polite acceptance of what he had just heard. "I can
take you ladies to Yolanda if you'd like a spin in the open better than
a stuffy ride in the train."

"Thank you," Mrs. Richards returned, "but I get off at Sausalito. I've
no doubt Miss Robson will be delighted."

"I think I'd better not," said Claire. "Mr. Flint is sendi