lit a match. A puff of wind extinguished
it. There is always just enough wind to extinguish a match.

I pocketed the note.

"I can't read it now," I said. "Tell me what it was about."

"It was telling you to sit tight and not to worry about us going
away--"

"That's good about worrying. You're a thoughtful chap, Ukridge."

"--because we should be back in a day or two."

"And what sent you up to town?"

"Why, we went to touch Millie's Aunt Elizabeth."

A light began to shine on my darkness.

"Oh!" I said.

"You remember Aunt Elizabeth? We got a letter from her not so long
ago."

"I know whom you mean. She called you a gaby."

"And a guffin."

"Of course. I remember thinking her a shrewd and discriminating old
lady, with a great gift of description. So you went to touch her?"

"That's it. I suddenly found that things were getting into an A1
tangle, and that we must have more money. So I naturally thought of
Aunt Elizabeth. She isn't what you might call an admirer of mine, but
she's very fond of Millie, and would do anything for her if she's
allowed to chuck about a few home-truths before doing it. So we went
off together, looked her up at her house, stated our painful case, and
corralled the money. Millie and I shared the work. She did the asking,
while I inquired after the rheumatism. She mentioned the precise
figure that would clear us. I patted the toy Pomeranian. Little beast!
Got after me quick, when I wasn't looking, and chewed my ankle."

"Thank Heaven for that," I said.

"In the end Millie got the money and I got the home truths."

"Did she call you a gaby?"

"Twice. And a guffin three times."

"But you got the money?"

"Rather. And I'll tell you another thing. I scored heavily at the end
of the visit. Lady Lakenheath was doing stunts with proverbs--"

"I beg your pardon?"

"Quoting proverbs, you know, bearing on the situation. 'Ah, my dear,'
she said to Millie, 'marry in haste, repent at leisure!' 'I'm afraid
that proverb doesn't apply to us,' said Millie, 'because I haven't
repented.' What do you think of that, old horse?"

"Millie's an angel," I replied.

Just then the angel joined us. She had been exploring the house, and
noting the damage done. Her eyes were open to their fullest extent as
she shook hands with me.

"Oh, Mr. Garnet," she said, "_couldn't_ you have stopped them?"

I felt a cur. Had I done as much as I might have done to stem the
tide?

"I'm awfully sorry, M