rce: a capacious edifice of stout pasteboard neatly plastered with
wall-paper in whose design narrow stripes of white alternated with
aggressive stripes of brown, the whole effectively setting off an
abundance of purple blossoms counterfeiting no flower known to
botanists. And one gibbous side was further decorated with bold black
script advertising the establishment of its origin.

"_Maison Lucille, New Bond Street, West_," Staff read aloud, completely
bewildered. "But I never heard of the d---- the place!"

Helplessly he sought Milly's eyes, and helpfully Milly rose to the
occasion.

"Nossir," said she; and that was all.

"I know nothing whatever about the thing," Staff declared severely.
"It's all a mistake. Take it away--it'll be sent for as soon as the
error's discovered."

A glimmer of intelligence shone luminous in Milly's eyes. "Mebbe," she
suggested under inspiration of curiosity--"Mebbe if you was to open it,
you'd find a note or--or something."

"Bright girl!" applauded Staff. "You open it. I'm too busy--packing
up--no time--"

And realising how swiftly the golden minutes were fleeting beyond
recall, he cast desperately about for his pipe.

By some miracle he chanced to find it, and so resumed packing.

Behind him, Milly made noises with tissue-paper.

Presently he heard a smothered "O sir!" and looked round to discover the
housemaid in an attitude of unmitigated adoration before what he could
not deny was a perfect dream of a hat--the sort of a hat that only a
woman or a society reporter could do justice to. In his vision it bore a
striking resemblance to a Gainsborough with all modern improvements--as
most big hats do to most men. Briefly, it was big and black and trimmed
with an atmosphere of costly simplicity, a monstrous white "willow"
plume and a huge buckle of brilliants. It impressed him, hazily, as just
the very hat to look ripping on an ash-blonde. Aside from this he was
aware of no sensation other than one of aggravated annoyance.

Milly, to the reverse extreme, was charmed to distraction, thrilled to
the core of her and breathless--though by no means dumb. Women are
never dumb with admiration.

"O sir!" she breathed in ecstasy--"it's a real creashun!"

"Daresay," Staff conceded sourly. "Did you find a note?"

"And the price-tag, sir--it says _twen_-ty five pounds!"

"I hope there's a receipted bill, then.... Do you see anything remotely
resembling a note--or something?"

With d