“That are careless enough to get in the way of them,” finished the captain, with surprising presence of mind. “Still, if Caroline wants to go--” “I have it!” exclaimed Mrs. Dunn. “The young people shall go, and the others remain at home. Malcolm shall take you for a spin, Caroline, and Captain Warren and I will stay here and wait until you return. We’ll have a family chat, Captain, won’t we? Because,” with a gay laugh, “in a way we _are_ like one family, you see.” And, somewhat to Miss Warren’s surprise, her uncle agreed to this proposition. He did not answer immediately, but, when he did, it was with heartiness. “Why, yes,” he said, “that’s a good idea. That’s fust-rate. You young folks go, and Mrs. Dunn and I’ll wait here till you come back. That’s the way of the world--young folks on the go, and the old folks at home by the fire, hey, Mrs. Dunn?” The lady addressed did not relish being numbered with “old folks,” but she smiled sweetly, and said she supposed it was. Malcolm telephoned to the garage and to Edwards at the Warren apartment, ordering the butler to deliver his mistress’s auto cap and cloak to the chauffeur, who would call for them. A few minutes later the yellow car rolled up to the door. In the hall Mrs. Dunn whispered a reassuring word to her departing guest. “Now enjoy yourself, dear,” she whispered. “Have a nice ride and don’t worry about me. If he--if our encumbrance bores me too much I shall--well, I shall plead a headache and leave him to his own devices. Besides, he isn’t so _very_ dreadful, is he?” Caroline shook her head. “No,” she answered, “he is a good man. I understand him better than I did and--yes, I like him better, too.” “Oh!... Indeed! Well, good-by, dear. Good-by.” The yellow car roared as the chauffeur cranked it, then moved off up the crowded avenue. Mrs. Dunn watched it until it was out of sight. Her brows were drawn together, and she seemed puzzled and just a bit disconcerted. However, when she returned to the drawing-room, her gracious smile had returned, and her bland condescension was again in evidence. Captain Elisha had been standing by the window. She begged him to be seated. He thanked her, but looked dubiously at the Louis XVI chair indicated. She noticed the look. “Suppose we go into the library,” she said. “It is much less formal. And there is a fire--for us _old_ folks,” with a slight accent on the word. The library was more homelike. Not as many books as at the Warrens’, but a great deal of gilt in the bindings and much carving on the cases. The fire was cheery, and the pair sat down before it in big easy chairs. Mrs. Dunn looked intently at the glowing coals. Captain Elisha cleared his throat. Mrs. Dunn leaned forward expectantly. The captain coughed and sank back in his chair. “Yes?” purred the lady. “You were about to say?” “Me? Oh, no, I didn’t say anything.”