ad the paper: "Arrive this
evening--about seven. May."

"Thank----!" exclaimed Lady Dashwood--and then she suddenly paused, for
she met the old thoughtful eye of Robinson.

"Yes!" she remarked irrelevantly. Then she folded the paper. "There is
no answer," she said. "When you've taken the tea away--please tell Mrs.
Robinson that quite unexpectedly Mrs. Jack Dashwood is arriving at
seven. She must have the blue room--there isn't another one ready. Don't
let in any callers for me, Robinson."

All that concerned the Warden's lodgings concerned Robinson. Oxford--to
Robinson meant King's College. He had "heard tell" of "other colleges";
in fact he had passed them by and had seen "other college" porters
standing about at their entrance doors as if they actually were part of
Oxford. Robinson felt about the other colleges somewhat as the
old-fashioned Evangelical felt about the godless, unmanageable, tangled,
nameless rabble of humanity (observe the little "h") who were not
elected. The "Elect" being a small convenient Body of which he was a
member.

King's was the "Elect" and Robinson was an indispensable member of it.

Robinson went downstairs with his orders, which, dropping like a pebble
into the pool of the servants' quarters, started a quiet expanding
ripple to the upper floor, reaching at last to the blue bedroom.

Alone in the drawing-room Lady Dashwood was able to complete her
exclamatory remark that Robinson's solemn eye had checked.

"Thank Heaven!" she said, and she said it again more than once. She
laughed even and opened the telegram again and re-read it for the pure
pleasure of seeing the words. "Arrive this evening."

"I've risked Jim's life--and now I've saved it." Then Lady Dashwood
began to think carefully. There was no train arriving at seven from
Malvern--but there was one arriving at six and one at seven fifteen.
Anyhow May was coming. Lady Dashwood actually laughed with triumph and
said--"May is coming--_that_ for 'Belinda and Co.'!"

"Did you speak to me, Lady Dashwood?" asked a girlish voice, and Lady
Dashwood turned swiftly at the sound and saw just within the doorway a
girlish figure, a pretty face with dark hair and large wandering eyes.

"No, Gwen!" said Lady Dashwood. "I didn't know you were there----" and
again she folded the telegram and her features resumed their normal
calm. With that folded paper in her hand she could look composedly now
at that pretty face and slight figure. If she