The truth was that Colonel Faversham had always been somewhat dangerously susceptible. Lawrence could never feel certain that his father was too old to think of marrying again. Carrissima knew that for the next few days he would talk of nobody but Bridget; that he would lend her books, and perhaps even express a wish to invite her to dine. He would on every opportunity pay her extravagant compliments and make himself generally ridiculous; then he would begin to forget her existence and fall back into his ordinary routine of bridge and golf until another attractive face arrested his attention. Although he sang Miss Rosser's praises loudly that Saturday afternoon, and spoke of her frequently on Sunday and during the next few evenings, Carrissima scarcely suspected that the colonel had met Bridget since her visit to Grandison Square. She was certainly astounded when, going to see her small nephew one afternoon a week or so later, she found that she had run her head into a hornets' nest. "You have done a fine thing!" said Lawrence. "That is the worst of you." "Oh, do please tell me what is the best, or at least the medium, for a change," was the answer. "My dear Carrie----" "If you call me Carrie you will drive me mad," said Carrissima. "I fancy you must be," exclaimed her brother, standing on the hearthrug and looking as solemn as the judge he hoped some day to become. One hand was thrust between the buttons of his morning coat, the other clasped its lapelle, his head was flung back, and one foot rested on the fender. "An immense pity," he added, "that you can never mind your own business." Carrissima skilfully mimicked his attitude. "May it please you, m'lud, and gentlemen of the jury," she said, causing Lawrence hastily to change his pose, and Phoebe to look a little scandalized. "There's a time for everything," he insisted, with a blush. "Let me tell you this is no laughing matter." "You should not make yourself look so ridiculous," said Carrissima. "Why should you everlastingly be retained for the prosecution?" "You would certainly require a clever defence," returned Lawrence. "A fine thing you have done by your unnecessary interference." "But what am I accused of?" she demanded. "What is all the fuss about?" "As I was walking home on Saturday," he explained, "I turned up the Haymarket. The people were just going in to the matinee----" "I mustn't forget I want to go to the Haymarket," said Carrissima. "Do, for goodness' sake," he expostulated, "try to fix your mind on one thing at a time." "It depends on its nature," said Carrissima. "Whom should I see getting out of a taxi," cried Lawrence, "but the colonel and some woman." "My dear Lawrence," was the answer, "knowing father as well as you pretend to know everybody, surely you cannot imagine there's anything very unusual about that." "Carrissima," interposed Phoebe, "I really think from Lawrence's description that she must have been Bridget Rosser."