"And ultimately everything is left to the Secretary, who arranges matters quite satisfactorily without any assistance whatsoever!" The two elderly gentlemen laughed happily at their own spirited little dialogue, and Mr. Welwyn rose to lay down his cup. It was a tactical blunder of capital magnitude. Lady Adela, left momentarily unguarded, immediately slipped her moorings, rose to her feet, and sailed with great stateliness in the direction of the fireplace. "I am going to have a chat with your dear mother," she observed graciously to Mrs. Welwyn in passing. "Dick dear, let me have your chair." Dicky, feeling that it was not for him to participate in a battle of giants, obeyed, and Lady Adela sank down opposite Grandma Banks. Simultaneously sounds of further disturbances penetrated from the regions above, and a small lump of plaster fell from the ceiling. Grandma, still intent upon a hearty and unwholesome tea, made no acknowledgment of Lady Adela’s presence until Mrs. Welwyn effected an introduction. "Mother," she explained, "this is Lady Adela, Mr. Dick’s mother." Mrs. Banks nodded curtly. "It is very kind of you, Mrs. Banks," intimated Lady Adela in the voice of one who meditates producing soup-tickets later on, "to make this special effort on our behalf. I hope we are not too much for you." The relict of the departed Banks poured some tea from her cup into her saucer, took a hearty and sibilant sip, and replied:-- "Very few folks ’as ever bin too much for me. I ’ear as ’ow you have come on business." "We told her," Mrs. Welwyn explained to Lady Adela, who was watching Grandma’s performance with the saucer with hypnotic fascination, "that you and Mr. Mainwaring were coming to-day to have a talk about Tilly and Mr. Dick. That is what she meant by business, I expect." But the explanation fell on inattentive ears. Lady Adela’s gaze had now risen from the saucer to the ceiling, which was vibrating madly, apparently under the repeated impact of one or more heavy bodies. The rest of the company had given up all pretence at conversation some time ago. It was Dicky who supplied a line of explanation. "Mrs. Welwyn," he said gravely, "your paper-hangers seem to be skylarking a little bit--what?" "That’s it," agreed Mrs. Welwyn, transparently grateful. "But what can one do?" she continued, speaking with pathetic solicitude in Lady Adela’s direction. "You know what paperhangers are!" "A playful race! A playful race!" cooed Mr. Welwyn helpfully. There was another heavy bump overhead. The prism-decked chandelier rattled, and the ceiling shed another regretful flake. "Sounds as if some one had tried to walk up the wall and failed," observed Percy, with that courageous facetiousness which comes proverbially to Britons at moments of great peril. "How exasperating it must be for you all, Tilly," said Sylvia sympathetically. "I wonder you don’t go and live somewhere else while it is going on."