a selfish girl like Rosamund.

To-night Radmore wondered, not for the first time, why Janet Tosswill did
not like Enid Crofton, for he felt, somehow, that there was no love lost
between them. He told himself that he must ask Betty to try to become
friends with her. Instinctively he relied on Betty's judgment, and that
though he saw very little of her, considering what very old friends he
and she were. And then, when he was thinking these secret, idle thoughts,
he became suddenly conscious that Betty was not among those sitting at
the full dining-table.

When Tom came in, bearing a huge soup tureen, and looking, it must be
confessed, very red and embarrassed, Janet observed composedly that the
person on whom they had relied to help them to-night had failed them at
the last moment, and they had decided that it would be simpler for them
to wait on themselves.

Radmore muttered to his neighbour, Rosamund, "Where's Betty?"

"In the kitchen. She's the only one of us who knows how to cook. She
_loves_ cooking. She'll come into the drawing-room later if she's not too
tired."

Radmore felt indignant. It was too bad that Betty, whom he vividly
remembered as the petted darling of the house, should now have become--to
put it in a poetical way--the family Cinderella! But as the dinner went
on, and as the soup was succeeded by some excellent fish, as well as by
roast chicken, a particularly delicious blackberry fool, and a subtly
composed savoury, he began to wonder whether some good professional cook
had not been got in after all. He could hardly believe that Betty had
cooked and dished up this really excellent dinner.

All through the meal Timmy flitted in and out, bringing round and
removing the plates, but it was Tom who did most of the waiting.

At last Janet, catching Enid Crofton's eye, got up and delivered
as parting injunction, "Please don't stay too long behind us,
gentlemen--we're going to have coffee in the drawing-room."

Jack Tosswill sprang to the door, and tried to catch Mrs. Crofton's eye
as she passed out first, but of course he failed, and as he came back to
the table, he observed: "I do hope Betty won't be too tired to come into
the drawing-room. Mrs. Crofton was saying the other day that she wished
she knew her better." He was in a softened mood, the kind of mood which
makes a man not only say, but think, pleasant things.

And then Mr. Tosswill made one of his rare practical remarks. "I have
always thou