ry tired, and not in the least sorry when she brought
me my breakfast in bed.

It was about twelve o'clock when Mrs. Westlake herself came to tell me
to get up, and then Harper brought a dressing-gown, which together with
everything else in the room must have belonged to Dick, who was away
from home on a week's visit.

'First of all, you are to have a nice warm bath,' she said, and she led
the way to a bath-room, where she had already made everything ready. The
water was quite a foot deep and delightfully hot.

When I had had a bath, and put on a summer vest, a white shirt, a suit
(almost new) of drab tweed with knickerbockers, a collar and a decent
blue and white spotted tie, I confess that I regarded my figure in the
glass with considerable approval.

'If you're quite ready,' said Harper, outside the door, 'you're to come
to lunch,' but first she led the way to what was evidently Mr.
Westlake's smoking-room. I fancied from his manner that he only
half-approved of all that Mrs Westlake had done for me. He reminded me
of Captain Knowlton, not because the faces were alike so much as because
they both seemed to dress and speak in the same way. Captain Knowlton
had been dark-haired, and wore a moustache, while Mr. Westlake was fair,
and his upper lip was shaven, but he also wore an eyeglass, and stood
nearly six feet in height, appearing a little stiff before I knew him
properly. As Mrs. Westlake led me towards him, she said a few words in
French, and I knew that they referred to her own boy, and the
possibility that he might want friends some day, but still Mr. Westlake
did not offer his hand, but only nodded and said, 'How d'ye do?'

'Let us go to luncheon,' he exclaimed the next moment, and I stepped
forward to open the door for Mrs. Westlake. In the dining-room I saw
Jacintha, who at once met me with her hand outstretched.

'You gave me quite a shock in Dick's clothes,' she cried.

'I am most awfully obliged to you,' I said, turning to Mrs. Westlake.
'I--I don't know what to say.'

The butler stood with his back slightly bowed, ready to remove a
dish-cover; Jacintha shook back her hair, and looked tearful; Mrs.
Westlake stared at the plates at her end of the table, and her husband
put a pair of hands on my shoulders and pushed me towards my chair,
facing Jacintha.

'That's all right,' he cried. 'Sit down and have a good luncheon. We
will talk by-and-by.'

(_Continued on page 181._)

THE FEAST OF CHE