Mr. Boffin came in, with a blue ribbon around his neck, and helped
himself to Aunt Francesca's chair. Isabel rocked him and he got down,
without undue haste. He marched over to a straight-backed chair with a
cushion in it; glared at Isabel for a moment with his inscrutable topaz
eyes, then began to purr.

The clock chimed seven silvery notes. Madame Bernard waved her white
lace fan impatiently. "It's the psychological moment," Rose observed.
"Why don't they come?"

"It's Allison's fault, if they're late," Madame assured her. "I could
always set my watch by the Colonel. He--there, what did I tell you?" she
concluded triumphantly, as footsteps sounded outside.

When the guests were ushered in, Madame advanced to meet them. The
firelight had brought a rosy glow to her lovely face, and her deep eyes
smiled. Allison put his violin case in a corner before he spoke to her.

"Did you really?" asked Madame. "How kind you are!"

"I brought it," laughed the young man, "just because you didn't ask me
to."

"Do you always," queried Rose, after he had been duly presented to her,
"do the things you're not asked to do?"

"Invariably," he replied.

"Allison," said Madame, "I want you to meet my niece once removed--Miss