It was late when her last caller departed, and as she ran lightly up to the Doctor's study, she realized with a little sense of disappointment that she had not seen him since breakfast. Even now she paused at the door, for fear she would interrupt some flight of the muse. But on peeping in she found his big armchair drawn up to the window, and the top of a head appearing above its back. Tiptoeing cautiously forward she clapped her hands over his eyes and dropped a kiss on his upturned forehead. In an instant a strange, belligerent little gentleman had sprung to his feet and was confronting her with features that resembled those of a magnified and outraged bumblebee. “I am so sorry!” stammered Miss Lady in laughing chagrin, “I--I thought you were the Doctor!” “Even so,” admitted the stranger rather firmly, standing with chin lifted and nostrils dilated, “even so. You seem to have forgotten the fact that Doctor Queerington is now a benedict!” “Yes, but you don't understand. I am--” “A friend of Constance' no doubt. But under the circumstances you will permit me to say that such conduct is ill-advised. I should not mention it were I not a friend of the family--” “Oh! You are Mr. Gooch?” “I am. And I have the pleasure of addressing--” “Why, I'm Mrs. Queerington,” said Miss Lady, blushing furiously. Mr. Gooch sank back into the chair and looked at her indignantly. “Impossible!” he exploded. “They did not tell me--in fact I was not prepared--May I ask you not to mention my mistake to the girls? Constance, as you doubtless have discovered, is very silly, given to making great capital out of nothing. We will not mention it.” “Ah!” said the Doctor in the doorway with his arms full of books. “How are you, my dear? How are you, Mr. Gooch? What is this conspiracy of silence?” “It is only against the girls,” laughed Miss Lady. “We'll take him in, won't we, Mr. Gooch?” The Doctor listened with tolerant amusement as Miss Lady gave a dramatic account of the double mistake, but Mr. Gooch failed to smile. All through supper that evening Miss Lady tried in vain to propitiate the guest. His manner showed only too plainly that he regarded her as an intrusion in the family which he had seen fit to adopt. It was not until the pudding arrived that his mood mellowed. Myrtella's cooking was so eminently to his taste that he was willing to put up with a great deal for the privilege of enjoying it. Moreover, laughter always improved his digestion and the young person at the head of the table was proving amusing. “Mr. Gooch is waiting for more coffee,” announced Hattie, interrupting an animated account Miss Lady was giving of her first day at the country school. “Let her finish the story,” said the Doctor to whom food was immaterial. He was indulging in the unusual luxury of loitering at the table after the meal was finished, a habit seldom tolerated in the Queerington household.