not at home yet to townees."

"Well, hide among the ruins, and if I can stop them, I will."

He thanked her.

Margaret went forward, smiling socially. She supposed that these were
unpunctual guests, who would have to be content with vicarious civility,
since Evie and Charles were gone, Henry tired, and the others in their
rooms. She assumed the airs of a hostess; not for long. For one of the
group was Helen--Helen in her oldest clothes, and dominated by that
tense, wounding excitement that had made her a terror in their nursery
days.

"What is it?" she called. "Oh, what's wrong? Is Tibby ill?"

Helen spoke to her two companions, who fell back. Then she bore forward
furiously.

"They're starving!" she shouted. "I found them starving!"

"Who? Why have you come?"

"The Basts."

"Oh, Helen!" moaned Margaret. "Whatever have you done now?"

"He has lost his place. He has been turned out of his bank. Yes, he's
done for. We upper classes have ruined him, and I suppose you'll tell
me it's the battle of life. Starving. His wife is ill. Starving. She
fainted in the train."

"Helen, are you mad?"

"Perhaps. Yes. If you like, I'm mad. But I've brought them. I'll stand
injustice no longer. I'll show up the wretchedness that lies under this
luxury, this talk of impersonal forces, this cant about God doing what
we're too slack to do ourselves."

"Have you actually brought two starving people from London to
Shropshire, Helen?"

Helen was checked. She had not thought of this, and her hysteria abated.
"There was a restaurant car on the train," she said.

"Don't be absurd. They aren't starving, and you know it. Now, begin from
the beginning. I won't have such theatrical nonsense. How dare you! Yes,
how dare you!" she repeated, as anger filled her, "bursting in to Evie's
wedding in this heartless way. My goodness! but you've a perverted
notion of philanthropy. Look"--she indicated the house--"servants,
people out of the windows. They think it's some vulgar scandal, and
I must explain, 'Oh no, it's only my sister screaming, and only two
hangers-on of ours, whom she has brought here for no conceivable
reason.'"

"Kindly take back that word 'hangers-on,'" said Helen, ominously calm.

"Very well," conceded Margaret, who for all her wrath was determined to
avoid a real quarrel. "I, too, am sorry about them, but it beats me why
you've brought them here, or why you're here yourself."

"It's our last chance of seeing Mr. Wil