p, anyhow, to talk over
Aunt Margaret's affairs. I might as well know a little more about them.
Tommy, the she-dragon can't actually lock you up, can she?"

"No--it couldn't be done," said Cecilia. "Modern houses aren't built
with dungeons and things. Moreover, if she tried to keep me in the house
she would have to take the children out for their walks herself; and she
simply hates walking."

"Then you can certainly post to me, and get my letters, and I'll be up
again as soon as ever I can. Buck up, old girl--it can't be for long
now."

They turned in at the Rainhams' front gate, and Cecilia glanced up
apprehensively. All the windows were in darkness; the grey front of the
house loomed forbiddingly in the faint moonlight.

"You're coming in, aren't you?" she asked, her hand tightening on his
arm.

"Rather--we'll take the edge off her tongue together." Bob rang the
bell. "Wonder if they have all gone to bed. The place looks pretty
dark."

"She's probably in the little room at the back--the one she calls her
boudoir."

"Horrible little den, full of bamboo and draperies and pampas grass--I
know," nodded Bob. "Well, either she's asleep or she thinks it's fun to
keep us on the mat. I'll try her again." He pressed the bell, and the
sound of its whirring echoed through the silent house.

CHAPTER IV

COMING HOME

The bolt grated, as if grudgingly, and slowly the door opened as far as
the limits of its chain would permit, and Mrs. Rainham's face appeared
in the aperture. She glared at them for a minute without speaking.

"So you have come home?" she said at last. The chain fell, and the door
opened. "I wonder you trouble to come home at all. May I ask where you
have been?"

"She has been with me, Mrs. Rainham," Bob said cheerfully. "May I come
in?"

Mrs. Rainham did not move. She held the door half open, blocking the
way.

"It is far too late for me to ask you in," she answered frigidly.
"Cecilia can explain her conduct, I presume."

"Oh, there's really nothing to explain," Bob answered. "It was so late
when she got out this afternoon that I kept her--why, it was after
half-past four before she was dressed."

"I told her to be in for tea."

"Yes; but I felt sure you couldn't realize how late she was in getting
out," said Bob in a voice of honey.

"That was entirely her own mismanagement--" began the hard tones.

"Oh, no, Mrs. Rainham; really it wasn't," said Cecilia mildly. "Your
accompaniments,