in, and noble brow not a square inch was left
ungouged. It was indeed a face of evil suggestion that the unsuspecting
mother took back.

That was the evening when the Crowders, living next door, had rushed
over in the belief that my woman child was being murdered. The criminal
had never been able to advance the shadow of a reason or excuse for his
mad act. He seemed to be as honestly puzzled by it as the rest of us,
though I rejoice to say that he was not left without reason to deplore
it.

But the mother--the true mother--had thereafter loved the disfigured
thing but the more. She promptly divested it of all its splendid
garments, as a precaution against further vandalism, and the naked thing
with its scarred face was ever an honored guest at our functions.

"You really must get some clothes for Irene," I said. "That's not quite
the right thing, you know, having her sit there without any."

In much annoyance she rebuked me, whispering, for this thoughtless lapse
from my role as guest. At our parties Irene was no longer Irene, but
"Mrs. Judge Robinson," and justly sensitive about her faulty complexion
and lack of clothes.

"Besides," came the whisper again, "I am going to make her some
clothes--a lovely veil to go over her face."

Resuming her company voice, and with the aplomb of a perfect hostess who
has rectified the gaucherie of an awkward guest, she pressed upon me
another cup of the custard coffee, and tactfully inquired of the
supposedly embarrassed Mrs. Judge Robinson if she did not think this was
_very_ warm weather for this time of year.

The proprieties being thus mended, our hostess raised her voice and bade
Mrs. Sullivan, within doors, to hurry with the next course, which, I was
charmed to learn, would be lemon soup and frosted cake. Mrs. Sullivan's
response, though audible only to her mistress, who was compelled to cock
an intent ear toward the kitchen, seemed to be in some manner shuffling
or evasive.

"What's _that_?" she exclaimed sharply, listening again. Then, with
dignity, "Well, if you _don't_ hurry, I'll have to come right in there
and see to you this minute!"

The threat happily availed, and the feast went forward, a phantom and
duly apologetic Mrs. Sullivan serving us with every delicacy which our
imaginations afforded. When we had eaten to repletion, of and from the
checkers which were our plates and food as well, Mrs. Judge Robinson
suddenly became Irene, who had eaten too much and h