than to work and slave to the limit of endurance, and then have
everything upset by the stupidity of some one else?"

Orde murmured an appropriate reply, to which Mrs. Bishop paid no
attention whatever. She started suddenly up from the table.

"I must see about it!" she cried. "I plainly see I shall have to do it
myself. I WILL do it myself. I promised it for Sunday."

"You mustn't do another stitch, mother," put in Carroll Bishop
decidedly. "You know what the doctor told you. You'll have yourself down
sick."

"Well, see for yourself!" cried Mrs. Bishop. "That's what comes of
leaving things to others! If I'd done it myself, it would have saved me
all this bother and fuss, and it would have been done. And now I've got
to do it anyway."

"My dear," put in the general, "perhaps Carroll can see Marie about it.
In any case, there's nothing to work yourself up into such an excitement
about."

"It's very easy for you to talk, isn't it?" cried Mrs. Bishop, turning
on him. "I like the way you all sit around like lumps and do nothing,
and then tell me how I ought to have done it. John, have the carriage
around at once." She turned tensely to Orde. "I hope you'll excuse me,"
she said very briefly; "I have something very important to attend to."

Carroll had also risen. Orde held out his hand.

"I must be going," said he.

"Well," she conceded, "I suppose I'd better see if I can't help mother
out. But you'll come in again. Come and dine with us this evening.
Mother will be delighted."

As Mrs. Bishop had departed from the room, Orde had to take for granted
the expression of this delight. He bowed to the other occupants of
the table. The general was eating nervously. Gerald's eyes were fixed
amusedly on Orde.

To Orde's surprise, he was almost immediately joined on the street by
young Mr. Bishop, most correctly appointed.

"Going anywhere in particular?" he inquired. "Let's go up the avenue,
then. Everybody will be out."

They turned up the great promenade, a tour of which was then, even more
than now, considered obligatory on the gracefully idle. Neither said
anything--Orde because he was too absorbed in the emotions this
sudden revelation of Carroll's environment had aroused in him; Gerald,
apparently, because he was too indifferent. Nevertheless it was the
young exquisite who finally broke the silence.

"It was an altar cloth," said he suddenly.

"What?" asked Orde, rather bewildered.

"Mother is probably t