s, with Bobby Henderson."

"Oh yes," said Felicity, "but that's only intellectual sympathy! I can't
see the point of Bobby Henderson, can you? Vera likes him so much too."

"There _is_ no point about him. He's just the usual sporting, stupid
guardsman."

Felicity lit her husband's cigarette and left him.

* * * * *

Her dress this afternoon had been very carefully thought out to contrast
with Vera's.

Vera was dressed in dull flame colour, becoming to her white skin and
black hair. Felicity was in black and white. She wore a white hat, with
a black velvet bow, and one enormous gardenia. It was impossible not to
be pleased at Bertie's suppressed enthusiasm when she arrived. He was so
fastidious about clothes, and she knew she was a real success to-day.

"Oh, Felicity, isn't it too _horrible_? The chief person can't come!"
Vera was fluttering a telegram and evidently trying not to cry. "The
_great_ tenor, you know." She turned to Wilton. "Isn't it cruel at the
last minute?"

"Oh, don't worry, darling. Most likely no one will notice it--you see
you kept it dark as a surprise, luckily," said Felicity.

"And it _is_ a surprise--to me!" said Vera.

"Oh, isn't the little harpy infant phenomenon coming?" asked Felicity.

"Oh yes, _that's_ all right; he's here now, playing draughts with his
mother in my room to prevent him getting nervous; and eating bread and
jam. Thank goodness for that!"

"Oh, what sort of jam?" asked Wilton eagerly. "Pray don't keep it from
me! Raspberry, greengage--_please_ tell me, Mrs. Ogilvie!"

"Why, what _can_ it matter?"

"It matters enormously."

"One would think you were a reporter," said Felicity.

"I'm not. I'm only a psychologist."

"Same thing," said Felicity.

"Well, anyhow, it's marmalade--so there!" said Vera.

"Oh, how delightful," exclaimed Wilton; "to match his hair, of course.
Of course it's his mother's idea though. What a good mother she must
be!"

"Oh, here he is, at last. Where are his wings?"

The boy, with his white suit and golden hair and small harp, looked,
literally, angelic. There was a murmur of admiration.

"There oughtn't to be a dry eye in the room when he plays Schumann,"
said Felicity; "and fancy, Savile wouldn't come because he said he would
long to kick him, and he was afraid Vera wouldn't like it."

"I rather agree with Vera there," said Bertie.

"No one would like, at one's musical party, to have one's artis