LOUISE


"The tea will be quite cold, you'd better ring for some more," said the
Dowager Lady Beanford.

Susan Lady Beanford was a vigorous old woman who had coquetted with
imaginary ill-health for the greater part of a lifetime; Clovis Sangrail
irreverently declared that she had caught a chill at the Coronation of
Queen Victoria and had never let it go again. Her sister, Jane
Thropplestance, who was some years her junior, was chiefly remarkable for
being the most absent-minded woman in Middlesex.

"I've really been unusually clever this afternoon," she remarked gaily,
as she rang for the tea. "I've called on all the people I meant to call
on; and I've done all the shopping that I set out to do. I even
remembered to try and match that silk for you at Harrod's, but I'd
forgotten to bring the pattern with me, so it was no use. I really think
that was the only important thing I forgot during the whole afternoon.
Quite wonderful for me, isn't it?"

"What have you done with Louise?" asked her sister. "Didn't you take her
out with you? You said you were going to."

"Good gracious," exclaimed Jane, "what have I done with Louise? I must
have left her somewhere."