take me for a walk in the Park."

"I sha'n't have anything else to do."

The door was opened. The footman was obviously English, with the art
of footmanism in his blood.

"Is Mrs. Gilbert Palgrave at home?" asked Joan as if the question
were entirely superfluous.

"No, miss."

"Are you sure?"

"Quite sure, miss. Mrs. Palgrave left for Boston yesterday on
account of hillness in the family, miss."

There was an awkward and appalled silence. Little did the man
suspect the kind of blow that his statement contained.

Joan darted an agonized look at Martin.

"But Mr. Palgrave is at 'ome, miss."

And that galvanized the boy into action. He had met Gilbert Palgrave
out hunting. He had seen the impertinent, cocksure way in which he
ran his eyes over women. He clutched the handle of the case and
said: "That's all right, thanks. Miss Ludlow will write to Mrs.
Palgrave." Then he turned and went down the steps to the car.