"Quite a storm last night, Mr. Schmarck," he said, rubbing his hands on an oil-rag. I gruffly agreed with him in a monosyllable. "But it is lovely to-day, sir. Heavenly, sir." "Heavenly?" I gasped. "Ah, but look at the glorious sun," he cried, waving the oil-rag in all directions at once. The sun! Upon my word, the sun _was_ shining fiercely. I hadn't noticed it before. The tops of the little red-tiled houses down the street glistened in the glare of sunshine that met my gaze as I looked up at them. Suddenly I remembered that I had witnessed the sunrise, a most doleful, dreary phenomenon that overtook us ten miles down the valley. I had seen it but it had made no impression on my tortured mind. The great god of day had sprung up out of the earth to smile upon me--or at me--and I had let him go unnoticed, so black and desolate was the memory of the night he destroyed! I had only a vague recollection of the dawn. The thing that caused me the most concern was the discovery that we had run the last half of our journey in broad daylight with our acetylene lamps going full blast. I stared at the tiles, blinking and unbelieving. "Well, I'm--dashed," I said, with a silly grin. "The moon will shine to-night, Mr. Schmarck--" he began insinuatingly. "_Smart_, if you please," I snapped. "Ah," he sighed, rolling his eyes, "it is fine to be in love." A full minute passed before I grasped the meaning of that soft answer, and then it was too late. He had gone about his business without waiting to see whether my wrath had been turned away. I had been joy-riding! The excitement in Britton's usually imperturbable countenance as he came running up to me from the telephone closet prepared me in a way for the startling news that was to come. "Has anything serious happened?" I cried, my heart sinking a little lower. "I had Mr. Poopendyke himself on the wire, sir. What do you think, sir?" A premonition! "She--she has arrived?" I demanded dully. He nodded. "She 'as, sir. Mrs.--your mother, sir, is in your midst." The proximity of the inquisitive manager explains this extraordinary remark on the part of my valet. We both glared at the manager and he had the delicacy to move away. "She arrived by a special train at twelve lawst night, sir." I was speechless. The brilliant sunshine seemed to be turning into sombre night before my eyes; everything was going black. "She's asleep, he says, and doesn't want to be disturbed till noon, so he says he can't say anything more just now over the telephone because he's afraid of waking 'er." (Britton drops them when excited.) "He doesn't have to shout so loud that he can be heard on the top floor," said I, still a trifle dazed. "She 'appens to be sleeping in your bed, sir, he says." "In _my_ bed? Good heavens, Britton! What's to become of _me_?" "Don't take it so 'ard, sir," he made haste to say. "Blatchford 'as fixed a place for you on the couch in your study, sir. It's all very snug, sir."