cy."

The car pulled up at that moment, and they stepped out to find Lady
Patterdale standing on the steps to welcome them.

Let it be said at once that Lady Patterdale was a perfect dear. One
lost sight of her incredible vulgarity in view of the charming
kindliness of her heart. And, after all, vulgarity is only
comparative. In the sanctity of the little shop in Birmingham where
Sir John had first laid the foundations of his fortune, aspirates could
drop unheeded. What mattered then, as always, was whether the heart
was in the right place. With Lady Patterdale it was. . . .

And because _au fond_, she was such a dear, it made it all the more
pathetic to see her in such surroundings. One felt, and one felt that
in the bottom of her heart she felt, that she would have been far more
happy in the kitchen. Except that in the kitchen her lost aspirates
would probably have been handed back to her on a salver, whereas in the
drawing-room they were ground into the carpet. . . . The spread of
education has made the kitchen a very dangerous place.

In appearance Lady Patterdale was short and stout; eminently the type
of woman who, if clothed according to the dictates of common sense,
would be called a "comfortable old party." One could imagine her in a
cotton dress, with her sleeves rolled up above her elbows, displaying a
pair of plump forearms and wielding a rolling pin in front of a good
hot fire. Covered with flour--her face very red--she would have been
in her element. . . . As it was, the dictates of fashion had cast
their blight over the proceedings.

The name of her dressmaker is immaterial. Originally Smith & Co. in
all probability, it had now become Smythe et Cie, and advertised in all
the most exclusive papers. Unfortunately, in the case of Lady
Patterdale they did not stop at advertising. They carried out their
dreadful threats and clothed her. The result was incredible. She
resembled nothing so much as a bursting melon. Onlookers shuddered at
times when they thought of the trust reposed by Providence and Lady
Patterdale in a few paltry hooks and eyes. The strain appeared so
terrific--the consequences of a disaster so appalling.

As Vane stepped out of the ambulance Lady Patterdale, supported on
either side by one of the nursing staff, advanced to meet him. Her
jolly old face was wreathed in smiles; cordiality and kindliness oozed
from her.

"Welcome, both of you," she cried. "Welcome to Ru