“Oh, you mustn’t depreciate her--you, of all men!” cried the matron, with a somewhat ponderous archness. “Really I envy you her constant society.” “I assure you,” said I, “I see very little of her.” “I beg your pardon?” “I only go to the house about once a fortnight--Oh, it’s not my fault. She won’t have me there oftener.” “What do you mean? I beg your pardon. Perhaps I’ve touched on a painful--?” “Not at all, not at all,” said I suavely. “It is very natural. I am neither young nor handsome, Mrs. Wiggins. I am not complaining.” The matron gazed at me. “Only seeing her here,” I pursued, “you have no idea of what she is at home. She has chosen to forbid me to come to her house--” “Her house?” “It happens to be more hers than mine,” I explained. “To forbid me, I say, more than once to come to her house. No doubt she had her reasons.” “Nothing could justify it,” said the matron, directing a wondering glance at Mrs. Hilary. “Do not let us blame her,” said I. “It is just an unfortunate accident. She is not as fond of me as I could wish, Mrs. Wiggins; and she is a great deal fonder than I could wish of--” I broke off. Mrs. Hilary was walking toward us. I think she was pleased to see me getting on so well with the matron, for she was smiling pleasantly. The matron wore a bewildered expression. “I suppose,” said Mrs. Hilary, “that you’ll drive back with the Micklehams?” “Unless you want me,” said I, keeping a watchful eye on the matron. “Oh, I don’t want you,” said Mrs. Hilary lightly. “You won’t be alone this evening?” I asked anxiously. Mrs. Hilary stared a little. “O, no!” she said. “We shall have our usual party.” “May I come one day next week?” I asked humbly. Mrs. Hilary thought for a moment. “I’m so busy next week--come the week after,” said she, giving me her hand. “That’s very unkind,” said I. “Nonsense!” said Mrs. Hilary, and she added, “Mind you let me know when you’re coming.” “I won’t surprise you,” I assured her, with a covert glance at the matron. The excellent woman was quite red in the face, and could gasp out nothing but “Goodbye,” as Mrs. Hilary affectionately pressed her hand. At this moment Dolly came up. She was alone. “Where’s Archie?” I asked. “He’s run away; he’s got to meet somebody. I knew you’d see me home. Mrs. Hilary didn’t want you, of course?” “Of course not,” said I plaintively. “Besides, you’d rather come with me, wouldn’t you?” pursued Dolly, and she added, pleasantly to the matron, “Mrs. Hilary’s so down on him, you know.” “I’d much rather come with you,” said I. “We’ll have a cozy drive all to ourselves,” said Dolly, “without husbands or wives or anything horrid. Isn’t it nice to get rid of one’s husband sometimes, Mrs. Wiggins?” “I have the misfortune to be a widow, Lady Mickleham,” said Mrs. Wiggins.