ther description of what had happened. The picture was
complete.

Strange to say, Lady Mary seemed to comprehend better than any of us.
She gurgled with laughter the whole evening, and lavished attentions
upon Jimmie so flatteringly that he ceased to look furtively at me and
became quite cocky before the evening was over, pretending that he had
done all these things to help me entertain my guests.

As we went up-stairs that night, Mrs. Jimmie clutched my arm, and, with
eyes as big as stars, said, in a tense whisper:

"My dear, we are invited to Combe Abbey! Think of it! To visit the
Duchess of Strowther! Lady Mary is going to write to her mother
immediately!"

If it had been anybody except dear Mrs. Jimmie, I should have said:

"Is she going to invite the cow, too?"

But as it was, I squeezed back, and said, earnestly:

"I am so glad, dear Mrs. Jimmie!"

CHAPTER XI

ON THE GENTLE ART OF WASTING OTHER PEOPLE'S TIME

On the last day of the house-party we decided to hold a family
gathering in the evening, to which each guest must bring a written
sketch of some member of the household. It was to be a very short
sketch, not to consume over ten minutes in the reading, and no one was
to get angry, and no one was to get his feelings hurt.

Aubrey had to go into New York to attend a dress rehearsal of his new
play, but he promised to write something on the train, and have it
ready. His absence left me at once to play hostess and to receive the
queer, curious, and inconsequent persons who flock to the door of the
successful playwright, with every wish from obtaining his autograph to
an offer to stage his plays.

My time was all taken up until eleven o'clock, in ordering and setting
the servants at work, righting their wrongs, and pottering around among
my large family. At three I had an engagement. This left me but a
short time in which to write my sketch. I begged Bee to help me out,
but never yet have I succeeded in impressing Bee with any respect for
my working hours. For this reason I laid down the law with open energy
to Billy, hoping that Bee would see that I meant her.

I began the campaign at breakfast. Bee and Billy and I were alone.

"At eleven o'clock I am going to begin to write," I announced, firmly,
"and, Billy, I want you distinctly to understand that you are not to
run your engine in my hall. Do you hear?"

"Um--huh," said Billy, smiling at me like a cherub.

Bee leaned over a