suspiciously. "Oh!"

"About that young Lord Comeragh," Mr. Chater hurried on, delighted
with his success. "He was up at Marlborough Street police-court this
morning--at least his butler was; of course his lordship wouldn't go
himself--charged with furiously driving his motorcar; and who do you
think was in the car with him at the time? Ah!"

Mrs. Chater, naming a young lady who nightly advertised a pretty leg
from the chorus of a musical comedy, announced that she would not be
surprised if that was the person. Being told that it was none other,
and that Mr. Chater had heard in the City that morning that Lady
Comeragh was taking proceedings and had named the nicely-legged young
lady the cause of infidelity, became highly astonished and supremely
diverted.

Conversation of a most delectable nature was by this means supplied. A
pot of savoury gossip, flavoured with scandal, was upon the table; and
Mary, lost to sight behind the cloud of steam that uprose as the three
leaped about it, finished her dinner undisturbed.

A nod bade her leave before dessert. As she passed out the signaller
spoke. "I want to see you," Mrs. Chater said. "Wait for me in the
drawing-room."

The command was unusual, and Mary, waiting as bid, worried herself
with surmises upon it. She prayed it did not mean she was to soothe
Mr. Bob Chater's digestion with lullabies upon the piano; that it
boded an unpleasant affair she was assured.