He called the attention of his hostess to his punctuality, and assured her that such a thing in him was a sign of the greatest devotion. "You see," said he, "when I am late, everyone says, 'Oh, it is only that shiftless Jack Rattleton,' and when I am on time, I want the credit for it. Now it is nothing particularly praiseworthy for a man like Holworthy to be on time. If he should ever slip up, it might well be put down as an insult, because he never forgets or dawdles. Some day his good reputation will be the ruin of him. I think my system is the better." After which airy persiflage, Rattleton noticed that Holworthy was not in the room; and ten minutes later, when the latter was still absent, he began to wish he had let airy persiflage alone. Everybody else had arrived. Five minutes more went by, and when twenty minutes were gone and no Holworthy, Jack went to Mrs. Tremont and told her how Hollis had left Cambridge in plenty of time, and, in fact, had refused to wait for him. "Something must have happened to him," he said, rather anxiously, "and I am prepared to back up as strictly true any excuse he may offer, for I can swear he left Cambridge more than an hour ago, and was coming right here." "No accident to himself, I hope," replied Mrs. Tremont. "At any rate, I think we had better go in, as I am sure Mr. Holworthy will feel more comfortable if we do not wait for him." So in they went, Rattleton taking her whom Holworthy should have taken, for Jack was one of two extra men. And Hollis, where was he? Suffering in the cab. Ten minutes later, as he went up the stoop of 142, an insidious policy stole into Holworthy's brain. He had lost the invitation and mistaken the number of the house,--why should he not have mistaken instead the hour of dinner? Was that not better than to be ignorant of the address of his hostess, upon whom he ought to have called long before this? He was in good time for an eight o'clock dinner, and most dinners are at eight nowadays. Then, too, Rattleton would be just about half an hour late, and would probably be utterly unconcerned about it, and offer no excuses. That would lend color to a suspicion that Mrs. Tremont had herself made the mistake, in writing some of the invitations. He would not need to tell any actual untruth--to say distinctly that he thought dinner was at eight. He need only imply it, and apologize for his evident mistake. It would be a pretty poor plea for a very bad crime, but at any rate it was a more polite explanation than the real one, and less ridiculous. Oh, Hollis Holworthy, that thou shouldst thus forget the _veritas_, the watchword of thine Alma Mater!