returned to her seat.

"Creature!" exclaimed the duchess, at last. "Oh, creature! This
comes of asking them as friends. And I had a lovely string of pearls
for her, worth far more than she would have been offered,
professionally, for one song. And to fail at the last minute! Oh,
CREATURE!"

"Dear aunt," said Jane, "if poor Madame Velma has a sudden attack of
laryngitis, she could not possibly sing a note, even had the Queen
commanded her. Her telegram is full of regrets."

"Don't argue, Jane!" exclaimed the duchess, crossly. "And don't drag
in the Queen, who has nothing to do with my concert or Velma's
throat. I do abominate irrelevance, and you know it! WHY must she
have her what--do--you--call--it, just when she was coming to sing
here? In my young days people never had these new-fangled
complaints. I have no patience with all this appendicitis and what
not--cutting people open at every possible excuse. In my young days
we called it a good old-fashioned stomach-ache, and gave them Turkey
rhubarb!"

Myra Ingleby hid her face behind her garden hat; and Garth Dalmain
whispered to Jane: "I do abominate irrelevance, and you know it!"
But Jane shook her head at him, and refused to smile.

"Tommy wants a gooseberry!" shouted the macaw, having apparently
noticed the mention of rhubarb.

"Oh, give it him, somebody!" said the worried duchess.