“Ha, ha! is that all?” “Oh, dear, I'm so glad!” cried Miss Folsom, impulsively. “I was frightened half to death. It might have been Mr.--” “Don't be silly, Rose,” said Lady Bazelhurst. “Where is she, Hodder?” “In the laundry, your ladyship. There are two fractures.” “By Jove, two legs instead of one, then--worse than I thought,” cried Bazelhurst, draining his glass. “Send at once for a doctor, Hodder, and take her to her room. Is n't it annoying,” said her ladyship. “It's so difficult to keep a cook in the mountains.” “Don't see how she can get away without legs,” observed De Peyton. “I'll come with you, Hodder. Perhaps I can do something for her,” said Penelope, following the butler from the room. “Don't take too many patients on your hands, my dear,” called the mistress, with a shrill laugh. “Yes; remember to-morrow,” added the duke. Then, suddenly: “I believe I'll lend a hand.” He hurried after Penelope, rather actively for him. Lord Bazelhurst visited his wife's room later in the night, called there by a more or les: peremptory summons. Cecil had been taking time by the forelock in anticipation of Shaw's descent in the morning and was inclined to jocundity. “Cecil, what do you think of Penelope's attitude toward Mr. Shaw?” she asked, turning away from the window which looked out over the night in the direction of Shaw's place. “I didn't know she had an attitude,” replied he, trying to focus his wavering gaze upon her. “She meets him clandestinely and she supports him openly. Is n't that an attitude, or are you too drunk to see it?” “My dear, remember you are speaking of my sister,” he said with fine dignity but little discrimination. “Besides, I am not too drunk. I _do_ see it. It's a demmed annoying attitude. She 's a traitor, un'stand me? A traito-tor. I intend to speak to her about it.” “It is better that you should do it,” said his wife. “I am afraid I could not control my temper.” “Penelope's a disgrace--a nabsolute disgrace; now many legs did Hodder say--” “Oh, you're disgusting!” cried Lady Evelyn. “Go to bed! I thought I could talk to you to-night, but I can't. You scarcely can stand up.” “Now, Evelyn, you do me injustice. I'm only holding to this chair to keep it from moving 'round the room. See that? Course I c'n stan' up,” he cried, triumphantly. “I am utterly disgusted with you. Oh, for a man! A man with real blood in his veins, a man who could do something besides eat and drink at my cost. I pay your debts, clothe you, feed you--house your ungrateful sister--and what do I get in return? _This!_” Lord Bazelhurst's eyes steadied beneath this unexpected assault, his legs stiffened, his shoulders squared themselves in a pitiful attempt at dignity.