And Henry would disappear at once and begin by mixing his bath, out of the ewers, the kettles, and the saucepan, according to a recipe of which he alone had the secret. The hour would be about nine o'clock, or a little after. It was not his custom to appear again. He would put one kettle out on an old newspaper, specially placed to that end on the doormat in the passage, for the purposes of Sunday's breakfast; the rest of the various paraphernalia remained in his room till the following morning. He then slept the sleep of one who is aware of being the nation's backbone. Now, he was just putting a toe or so into the zinc receptacle, in order to test the accuracy of his dispensing of the recipe, when he heard a sharp tap at the bedroom door. 'What is it?' he cried, withdrawing the toe. 'Henry!' 'Well?' 'Can I open the door an inch?' It was Aunt Annie's voice. 'Yes. What's the matter?' 'There's come a copy of _Home and Beauty_ by the last post, and on the wrapper it says, "See page 16."' 'I suppose it contains that--thing?' 'That interview, you mean?' 'Yes, I suppose so.' 'Shall I open it?' 'If you like,' said Henry. 'Certainly, with pleasure.' He stepped quietly and unconcernedly into the bath. He could hear the sharp ripping of paper. 'Oh yes!' came Aunt Annie's voice through the chink. 'And there's the portrait! Oh! and what a smudge across the nose! Henry, it doesn't make you look at all nice. You're too black. Oh, Henry! what _do_ you think it's called? "Lions in their Lairs. No. 19. Interview with the brilliant author of _Love in Babylon_." And you told us her name was Foster.' 'Whose name?' Henry demanded, reddening in the hot water. 'You know--that lady's name, the one that called.' 'So it is.' 'No, it isn't, dear. It's Flossie Brighteye. Oh, I beg pardon, Henry! I'm sure I beg pardon!' Aunt Annie, in the excitement of discovering Miss Foster's real name, and ground withal for her original suspicion that the self-styled Miss Foster was no better than she ought to be, had leaned too heavily against the door, and thrust it wide open. She averted her eyes and drew it to in silence. 'Shall I show the paper to your mother at once?' she asked, after a fit pause. 'Yes, do,' said Henry. 'And then bring it up to you again for you to read in bed?' 'Oh,' replied Henry in the grand manner, 'I can read it to-morrow morning.