"Miss--Miss Murieson," lied the old lady, glibly. "A--a
relative."

"Why, mummy!" I said reproachfully.

"There--there. It's only a joke. Isn't it a joke, Edward?" she
demanded, laughing uneasily.

"Joke?" he repeated with a hearty bellow of laughter. "Best
kind of a joke, I call it, to find so pretty a girl right in your
own house, eh, Bishop?"

"Why does he call my father `Bishop', mummy?"

I couldn't help it. The fun of hearing the Dowager lie and
knowing the Bishop beside himself with the pain of deception was
too much for me. I could see she didn't dare trust her Edward
with my sad story.

"Ho! ho! The Bishop--that's good. No, my dear Miss Murieson, if
this lady's your mother, why, I must be--at least, I ought to be,
your father. As such, I'm going to have all the privileges of a
parent--bless me, if I'm not."

I don't suppose he'd have done it if he'd been sober, but
there's no telling, when you remember the reputation the Dowager
had given him. But he'd got no further than to put his arm around
me when both the Bishop and the Dowager flew to the rescue. My,
but they were shocked! I couldn't help wondering what they'd have