-not her own--that stirred her, and the sight of
Mamma was really unwelcome to Mary only because of George's lack of
welcome.

"No Lizzie?" asked Mamma, blithely, when her first greetings were over,
and the case of Cousin Will had been dismissed with a few emphatic
sentences.

"I let her go this afternoon instead of to-morrow, Muddie, dear. We're
going down town to dinner."

"Oh; that's nice,--but I look a perfect fright!" said Mrs. Honeywell,
following Mary upstairs. "Nasty trip! I don't want a thing but a cup of
tea for supper anyway--bit of toast. I'll be glad to get my things off
for a while."

"If you LIKE, Mamma, why don't you just turn in?" Mary suggested. "It's
nearly four now. I'll bring you up some cold meat and tea and so on."

"Sounds awfully nice," her mother said, getting a thin little silk
wrapper out of her suit-case. "But we'll see,--there's no hurry. What
time are you meeting Georgie?"

"Well, we were going to Macbeth's,--but that's not important,--we
needn't meet him until nearly seven, I suppose," Mary said patiently,
"only I ought to telephone him what we are going to do."

"Oh, telephone that I'll come too, I'll feel fine in half an hour,"
Mrs. Honeywell said decidedly.

Mary, unsatisfied with this message, temporized by sitting down in a
deep chair. The room, which had all been made ready for Mamma, was cool
and pleasant. Awnings shaded the open windows; the rugs, the
wall-paper, the chintzes were all in gay and roseate tints. Mrs.
Honeywell stretched herself luxuriously on the bed, both pillows under
her head.

"I'm sure she'd be much more comfortable here than tearing about town
this stuffy night!" the daughter reflected, while listening to an
account of Cousin Will's dreadful house, and dreadful children.

It was so easy when Mamma was away to think generously, affectionately
of her, to laugh kindly at the memory of her trying moods. But it was
very different to have Mamma actually about, to humor her whims, listen
to her ceaseless chatter, silently sacrifice to her comfort a thousand
comforts of one's own.

After a half hour of playing listener she went down to telephone George.

"Oh, damn!" said George, heartily. "And here I've been hustling through
things thinking any minute that you'd come in. Well, this spoils it
all. I'll come home."

"Oh, dearest,--it'll be just a 'pick-up' dinner, then. I don't know
what's in the house. Lizzie's gone," Mary submitted hesitatingly.

"O