e through
lateness in beginning work by leaving early.

It was obvious that Lady Tanagra had made herself extremely popular.
Everyone was striving to gain her ear for his or her story of personal
experiences.

"Ah, here you are!" cried Lady Tanagra as Patricia entered. "I hear
you behaved like a heroine last night."

Mrs. Craske-Morton nodded her head with conviction.

"Mrs. Morton was the real heroine," said Patricia. "She was splendid!"

Mrs. Craske-Morton flushed. To be praised before so distinguished a
caller was almost embarrassing, especially as no one had felt it
necessary to comment upon her share in the evening's excitement.

"Come up with me while I take off my things," said Patricia, as she
moved towards the door. She saw that any private talk between herself
and Lady Tanagra would be impossible in the lounge with Galvin House in
its present state of ferment.

In Patricia's room Lady Tanagra subsided into a chair with a sigh. "I
feel as if I were a celebrity arriving at New York," she laughed.

"They're rather excited," smiled Patricia, "but then we live such a
humdrum life here--the expression is Mrs. Mosscrop-Smythe's--and much
should be forgiven them. A book could be written on the boarding-house
mind, I think. It moves in a vicious circle. If someone would only
break out and give the poor dears something to talk about."

"Didn't you do that?" enquired Lady Tanagra slily.

Patricia smiled wearily. "I take second place now to the raid. Think
of living here for the next few weeks. They will think raid, read
raid, talk raid and dream raid." She shuddered. "Thank heavens I'm
off to-morrow."

"Off to-morrow?" Lady Tanagra raised her eyes in interrogation.

"Yes, to Eastbourne for a fortnight's holiday as provided for in the
arrangement existing between one Patricia Brent and Arthur Bonsor,
Esquire, M.P. It's part of the wages of the sin of secretaryship."
Patricia sighed.

"I hope you'll enjoy----"

"Please don't be conventional," interrupted Patricia. "I shall not
enjoy it in the least. Within twenty-four hours I shall long to be
back again. I shall get up in the morning and I shall go to bed at
night. In between I shall walk a bit, read a bit, get my nose red
(thank heavens it doesn't peel) and become bored to extinction. One
thing I won't do, that is wear openwork frocks. The sun shall not
print cheap insertion kisses upon Patricia Brent."

"You're quite sure that it is