ho rose.

"Oh!" said she. "It's Ozzie."

"Who's Ozzie?" Charlie demanded, without thought.

"No doubt Oswald Morfey," said Mr. Prohack, scoring over his son.

"He wants to see me. May I ask him to come up for coffee?"

"Oh! Do!" said Sissie, also without thought. She then blushed.

Mr. Prohack thought suspiciously and apprehensively:

"I bet anything he's found out that my daughter is here."

Ozzie transformed the final act of the luncheon. An adept
conversationalist, he created conversationalists on every side. Mrs.
Prohack liked him at once. Sissie could not keep her eyes off him.
Charlie was impressed by him. Lady Massulam treated him with the
familiarity of an intimate. Mr. Prohack alone was sinister in attitude.
Ozzie brought the great world into the room with him. In his simpering
voice he was ready to discuss all the phenomena of the universe; but
after ten minutes Mr. Prohack noticed that the fellow had one sole
subject on his mind. Namely, a theatrical first-night, fixed for that
very evening; a first-night of the highest eminence; one of Mr. Asprey
Chown's first-nights, boomed by the marvellous showmanship of Mr. Asprey
Chown into a mighty event. The competition for seats was prodigious, but
of course Lady Massulam had obtained her usual stall.

"What a pity we can't go!" said Sissie simply.

"Will you all come in my box?" astonishingly replied Mr. Oswald Morfey,
embracing in his weak glance the entire Prohack family.

"The fellow came here on purpose to fix this," said Mr. Prohack to
himself as the matter was being effusively clinched.

"I must go," said he aloud, looking at his watch. "I have a very
important appointment."

"But I wanted to have a word with you, dad," said Charlie, in quite a
new tone across the table.

"Possibly," answered the superior ironic father in Mr. Prohack, who
besides being sick of the luncheon party was determined that nothing
should interfere with his Median and Persian programme. "Possibly. But
that will be for another time."

"Well, to-night then," said Charlie, dashed somewhat.

"Perhaps," said Mr. Prohack. Yet he was burning to hear his son's word.

II

However, Mr. Prohack did not succeed in loosing himself from the
embraces of the Grand Babylon Hotel for another thirty minutes. He
offered to abandon the car, to abandon everything to his wife and
daughter, and to reach his next important appointment by the common
methods of conveyance employed b