only when, rubbing the hands he had just washed, he entered
the dining-room and saw his wife.

"Where are the girls?" he asked even before kissing her, for the most
casual eye must be informed by the blank look of the table that instead
of being laid for half a dozen as usual, it was prepared for a meagre
two.

Mrs. Foss was fond of sitting in the dining-room, which had a glass door
into the garden on the side farthest from the road. There she read her
book while waiting for dinnertime and her husband. The good gentleman
did not always come directly home from his office. He had the love of
dropping into dim churches, of loitering on bridges, of fingering the
junk in old shops, but he was considerately never late for dinner.

Mrs. Foss rose to receive her husband's salutation, and while answering
his question settled herself at the table; for she had caught sight of a
domestic peeping in at the door to see if the masters were there to be
served.

"Leslie and Brenda went to call on the Hunts," she gave her account,
"and presently the Hunts' man came with a note from Mrs. Hunt, asking if
the girls could stay to dine and go to the theater. A box had just been
sent them. I was very glad to give my consent. Charlie will probably be
one of the party and bring them home. Or perhaps Gerald. Or they will be
put in a cab. I was delighted of the diversion for Brenda."

"And where's Lily?"

"She, too, is off having a good time. Fraeulein was invited by some
German friends who were giving a _Kinder-sinfonie_. Awful things,
if you want my opinion. She asked if she might go and take Lily, and the
poor child was so eager about it I thought I would just for once let her
sit up late. She has so few pleasures of the kind."

Mrs. Foss had helped the soup, with a ladle, out of a tureen.

It was after her husband and she had emptied their soup-plates in
companionable silence that, leaning back to wait for the next course,
she asked her regular daily question.

"Well, anything new? Anything interesting at the consulate?"

Mr. Foss seemed in good faith to be searching his mind. Then he answered
vaguely:

"No; nothing in particular." All at once he smiled a smile of
remembrance. "Yes, I saw some Americans to-day." He nodded, after an
interval, with an appearance of relish. "The real thing."

"In what way, Jerome? But, first of all, who were they?"

"Wait a moment. I stuck their cards in my pocket to show you. They came
to see me