porch, where Howard was saying good-by to Mrs. Chandos and Trixton Brent.
She joined them.

"Oh, my dear!" cried Mrs. Chandos, interrupting Honora's apologies, "I'm
sure I shan't sleep a wink--she gave me such a fright. You might have
sent Trixy ahead to prepare us. When I first caught sight of her, I
thought it was my own dear mother who had come all the way from
Cleveland, and the cigarette burned my fingers. But I must say I think it
was awfully clever of you to get hold of her and save Trixy's reputation.
Good night, dear."

And she got into her carriage.

"Give my love to Mrs. Holt," said Brent, as he took Honora's hand, "and
tell her I feel hurt that she neglected to say good night to me. I
thought I had made an impression. Tell her I'll send her a cheque for her
rescue work. She inspires me with confidence."

Howard laughed.

"I'll see you to-morrow, Brent," he called out as they drove away. Though
always assertive, it seemed to Honora that her husband had an increased
air of importance as he turned to her now with his hands in his pockets.
He looked at her for a moment, and laughed again. He, too, had apparently
seen the incident only in a humorous light. "Well, Honora," he remarked,
"you have a sort of a P. T. Barnum way of doing things once in a
while--haven't you? Is the old lady really tucked away for the night, or
is she coming down to read us a sermon? And how the deuce did you happen
to pick her up?"