does, it seems to me. Come, you must join us. Waiter, two
more places. Lady Deane, let me introduce Mr. Ashforth. They're on
their----"

He paused. An inarticulate sound had proceeded from Mary's lips.

"Beg pardon?" said the General.

A pin might have been heard to drop, while Mary, recovering herself,
said coldly:

"I think there's some mistake. I'm not Mrs. Ashforth."

"Gad, it's the old 'un!" burst in a stage whisper from Arthur Laing,
who seemed determined that John Ashforth should have a wife.

The General looked to his daughter for an explanation. Dora dared not
show the emotion pictured on her face, and her back was towards the
party. Charlie Ellerton was staring with a vacant look at the lady who
was not Mrs. Ashforth. The worst had happened.

John came to the rescue. With an awkward laugh he said:

"Oh, you--you attribute too much happiness to me. This is Miss Travers.
I--I--Her aunt, Miss Bussey, and she have kindly allowed me to join
their travelling party. Miss Bussey is at that table," and he pointed
to "the old 'un."

Perhaps it was as well that at this moment the pent-up feelings which
the situation, and above all the remorseful horror with which Laing was
regarding his fictitious lady's-maid, overcame Roger Deane. He burst
into a laugh. After a moment the General followed heartily. Laing was
the next, bettering his examples in his poignant mirth. Sir Roger
sprang up.

"Come, Miss Travers," he said, "sit down. Here's the fellow who gave
you your new name. Blame him," and he indicated Laing, Then he cried,
"General, we must have Miss Bussey, too."

The combined party, however, was not, when fully constituted by the
addition of Miss Bussey, a success. Two of its members ate nothing and
alternated between gloomy silence and forced gayety; who these were may
well be guessed. Mary and John found it difficult to surmount their
embarrassment at the contretemps which had attended the introduction,
or their perplexity over the cause of it. Laing was on thorns lest his
distributions of parts and stations in life should be disclosed. The
only bright feature was the congenial feeling which appeared at once to
unite Miss Bussey and Sir Roger Deane. They sat together, and, aided by
the General's geniality and Lady Deane's supramundane calm, carried the
meal to a conclusion without an actual breakdown, ending up with a
friendly wrangle over the responsibility for the bill. Finally it was
on Sir Roger's