a message for me?"

Larkin grinned and nodded assent. He had no notion why the book
gentleman always gave him this name of Middlecut, but he had also no
objection. Any gentleman who made his commission advance by leaps and
bounds, as this one had done, was at liberty to call him any name that
came handy.

Hugh had his fountain-pen, but no further vehicle for his message; none
of the ladies could help him with as much as a visiting card--what help
in emergencies can be expected from pocketless persons?

Larkin came to the rescue with the eternal card of Octavius Smith and
his bacon at elevenpence.

"Dear Madam" (wrote Hugh upon the back of this choice stationery),
"kindly burn any nonsense I may have said to you yesterday. On my return
in a week I will see what I can do to give you better information. I was
on my way to tell you this when Muffie's engaging adventure drove it out
of my head. Pray excuse this card--necessity knows no etiquette.

"Yours,

"Hugh Kinross."

A minute later the wagonette was gaily upon its way again, Hugh in
excellent spirits now he had laid the little demon of compunction that
had been troubling his kind heart since breakfast.

And Larkin was cantering happily down to "Greenways," his own pocket (he
kept his right-hand pocket for the money due to Octavius, and his
left-hand for his own tips) the heavier by a shilling.

"Miss Bibby, Miss Bibby!" cried Pauline.

"And now what is it?" said Miss Bibby, whose nerves by this time were in
a condition that made the reiteration of her own name a positive offence
to her. She was dressed for going to the post, and had a long official
envelope directed "To the Editor of the _Evening Mail_" tucked under her
arm. But she had paused by the kitchen fire on her way out to
superintend the blancmange which Anna was making for the children's tea,
and which, they complained bitterly, she always made lumpy.

"Larkin is at the door," said Pauline, "and he's got something for you
from Mr. Kinross."

"Where, where?" said Miss Bibby, fluttering forward. Larkin passed the
card to Pauline. Pauline passed it to Miss Bibby--and on such small
things does our destiny hang--the wrong side up.

That is to say the nauseating statement about the prime middle cut at
elevenpence a pound was what met the eye of the eager Miss Bibby.

An ebullition of anger such as rarely visited the gentle lady rose
within her now.

She flung the card angrily into the fire.