"Rather! His people are frightfully rich, you know," went on Clifford. "When they tease him about it at school, he says he's never allowed to use the same motor twice, and that they're made of solid gold! He chaffs everybody." Clifford murmured on rather disjointedly, and Bertha read without listening much, occasionally making some remark, when the telephone rang. Bertha had an extension on the little table next to her sofa. "Shall I go?" asked Clifford. "No. Just to the other end of the room." He obeyed, and fell into the depths of a fat arm-chair. "That you, Nigel? How is it all going on? Madeline hasn't heard from him lately--not for ages." "Quite so," answered Nigel's voice. "I've found out something I want you to know. It isn't really serious--at least I'm pretty sure I can put it right, but I'd like to see you about it; it wouldn't take you a moment." "But is it a thing that may make any difference?" she asked rather anxiously. "No. Not if it's taken in time," he answered. "Oh, can't you 'phone about it, Nigel?" "Not very well, my dear. It really wouldn't take you a minute to hear about it _viva voce_." "But you can't keep on calling every day!" cried Bertha, exasperated. "Quite so. Couldn't you go in for a few minutes to-morrow morning at the Grosvenor Gallery in Bond Street? Say at about eleven or twelve? I won't keep you five minutes, I promise, and you can tell me if you approve of my plan." "Very well, I'll do that. Quarter-past eleven," added Bertha. "Only one thing, Bertha, don't tell anyone--not a soul." "Why not?" "I'll explain when I see you. But you mustn't mention it. It's nothing--two seconds." "Oh, all right! But why so many mysteries? You might just as well tell me now on the telephone." "I'm afraid I can't; I have to show you a letter." "I suppose Rupert has been seeing Moona Chivvey again? Is that it?" "Well, yes. But that's not all. Not a word to Madeline! Isn't it curious, Bertha, troubles about women are always the same. Either _they_ want _you_ to marry _them,_ or _they_ won't marry _you_!" "Oh, really? Good-bye." "How brilliant you're looking, Bertha! You've got your hair done in that mysterious new way again." "How on _earth_ can you know through the telephone?" "Why, easily. By your voice. You talk in a different way--to suit it." "Do I? How funny! Good-bye." Ten minutes later Percy came in. He seemed pleased to see his young brother. "What's that book you've brought, Cliff?" "It's 'The New Arabian Nights.'" Percy laughed. "Oh yes, I know--the copy I gave Bertha. Have you decided to let her have it back on mature consideration?" "Oh, I say, Percy! Come off the roof, there's a good chap," said the boy, blushing a little. "I think I shall have to take a holiday from chambers to-morrow," Percy said. "Shall we take him out to lunch, Bertha?" "By all means; or, at any rate, you take him, Percy." "Are you engaged in the morning?" he asked her very quickly.