ochet-needle, and I can't get on without it."

"She went off with Diana and Wendy half an hour ago. I saw them running
upstairs together. Don't flatter yourself she'll remember about your
crochet-needle."

"I know she won't--the slacker! I shall just have to go and rout her up,
and make her find it. Oh, kafoozalum! It's a weary world!"

Peggy rose languidly, stretched her arms, and strolled in the direction
of the door, which at that identical moment opened to admit the missing
Sadie.

"Here, you old blighter, where's that crochet-needle?" demanded Peggy
impolitely.

"Bother your crochet-needle! I've no time to go and hunt for it now. I
say, girls!" continued Sadie excitedly; "anybody know what's become of
Diana? She's wanted. Those American cousins of hers have turned up. I
told them she was in here, and they're waiting outside the door. Oh!"

Sadie's exclamation was caused by the door, which she had carefully
closed suddenly opening, and nearly knocking her over. Apparently the
visitors did not approve of being left to wait in the passage, and
judged it expedient to make an entrance.

"Excuse me if we walk right in," said a nasal-toned voice; "but I was
told we'd find Miss Diana Hewlitt in here."

The five girls, scattered about the room, stared for a second in blank
amazement at the intruders. They were certainly unlike any other
visitors who had ever come to Pendlemere. The speaker was a little,
short, wiry man, in a slack-fitting, brown tweed suit, with a rather
obtrusive striped tie. His raggy, grey beard straggled under his chin
and up to his ears; his eyes twinkled through a pair of gold-rimmed
spectacles; in defiance of European etiquette, he wore his hat over a
crop of rough, grey hair. Clinging to his arm was a very stout lady in a
green coat and a velvet turban adorned with feathers. She also was
grey-haired, and her features were somewhat obscured by a thick, black
veil. The most prominent thing about her was a large and obtruding
tooth, which gave her somewhat the appearance of a good-natured walrus;
she held a morocco-leather satchel in her unoccupied hand, and wore a
large feather-boa round her neck.

Magsie, to her eternal credit, was the first to remember her manners,
and offer some sort of a greeting to the extraordinary strangers.

"Er--good afternoon!" she stammered. "I'm afraid Diana isn't here.
Shall--shall I go and fetch her?"

"Well, now, I'd call that real elegant of you," returned