ure to evoke, was one at which
they were not anxious to assist.

"Oh, I'm ahead of time," answered Jeannette. "I've been up since six
looking for eggs."

"Eggs?" echoed Lady Hartley.

"Yes; I collect birds' eggs." She picked up the newspaper and let her
eye wander along the items in the Court Circular. "But getting up early
makes me homesick. The best time of my life was when I was a kid, when I
hadn't an idea beyond the woods on the old Massachusetts farm, when
popper kept his store, and--Oh!"

She had reached the fatal announcement, and sat with parted lips, rigid
as stone, while the world seemed toppling about her ears. There was a
long pause. Jeannette's lips gradually tightened, and her firm hand
crumpled up the paper.

"Mommer!" she exclaimed. "Here, Mommer!" But Mrs. Urmy and Lady Hartley
had beaten a diplomatic retreat. Jeannette jumped to her feet, the color
flaming in her face, her eyes snapping with indignation. "Oh!" she
cried, impotently. "I'll--I'll--oh! what can I do? It must come out! He
must apologize. Who did it? Oh, I don't even know him, the--wretch!"

The "chuff-chuff" of a motor-car coming up the drive interrupted her
outburst, and she looked up to see it being driven up and halted before
the entrance. Lady Hartley had a perfect fleet of cars. Jeannette at
once jumped to the conclusion that this was one of them. She had a
sudden inspiration. It was running free--ready to start. There was
temptation in the soft purr of its engine. The driver, quietly dressed,
but not in livery, she appraised as one of Lady Hartley's motor-men.

"Shall I?" she whispered. "Dare I? I can set things straight at once if
I do. Persis will be wild with me for going off without a word, but
I'll--I'll chance it!"

She ran into the hall, slipped into her motoring coat, and, throwing
discretion to the winds, walked out to the front of the house and
quickly up to the car.

"How soon can you drive me to Sapworth Hall?" she asked, getting in and
pulling the rug around her.

The barefaced appropriation of his car by an unknown young woman almost
took Lord Chilminster's breath away. He had, at much inconvenience to
himself, motored all the way to Lady Hartley's to contradict and sift an
amazing and annoying report that he had discovered in the _Morning
Post_. He had heard Lady Hartley mention the name of Urmy as that of a
friend of hers, and naturally decided that she was the proper person to
consult. But before he had