of Mrs. Rushmore made her doubt whether such a
meeting were desirable. Instead of telegraphing to Madame Bonanni, she
wrote her answer, proposing to go to the prima donna's house. But
Madame Bonanni was impatient, and as no telegram came when she expected
one, she did not wait for a possible letter. To Margaret's dismay and
stupefaction, she appeared at Versailles about luncheon time, arrayed
with less good taste than the lilies of the field, but yet in a manner
to outdo Solomon in all his glory, and she was conveyed in a perfectly
new motor car. When Margaret, looking on from beyond the pond, saw her
descend from the machine, she could not help thinking of a dreadful
fresco she had once seen on the ceiling of an Italian villa,
representing a very florid, double-chinned, powerful eighteenth-century
Juno apparently in the act of getting down into the room from her car,
to the great inconvenience of every one below.

The English servant who opened the door was in distress of mind when he
saw her, for since he had served in Mrs. Rushmore's very proper
household he had never seen anything like Madame Bonanni as she stood
there asking for Miss Donne, and evidently not in a mood to be patient.
He was very much inclined to tell her that she had mistaken the house,
and to shut the door in her face. There were people coming to luncheon,
and it was just possible that she might be one of them; but if she was
not, and if the others came and found such a person there, how truly
awful it would be! Thus the footman reflected as he stood in the
doorway, listening to Madame Bonanni's voluble French speech.

As she paused for a moment, he heard some one on the stairs. It was
Mrs. Rushmore herself. He recognised her step and turned sharp round on
his heels, still filling the door but exposing his broad back to the
visitor.

'Very odd person asking to see Miss Donne, ma'am,' he said in low and
hurried tones. 'Shall I say "not at home," ma'am?'

'By all means "not at home," James,' said Mrs. Rushmore.

James had not miscalculated his breadth, as to the door, but his height
as compared with that of the odd person outside. She put her head over
his shoulder and looked in at Mrs. Rushmore.

'May I please come in?' she asked in comprehensible English. 'I am
Bonanni, the singer, and I want to see Miss Donne. I've come from
London to--please? Yes?'

'Goodness gracious!' cried Mrs. Rushmore. 'Let the lady in at once,
James!'

James disap