So said, so done! Master Bob was off like a shot, though reluctant to leave his phono, whose hideous din had been audible from afar since its arrival an hour ago. No sooner was he past recall than Challis remembered that if he had decided the question himself, it never would have been necessary to show the rejected version to Judith at all! But the fact is he had got rather into the way of consulting her. Anyhow, it couldn't matter much, either way. He went back to his writing, and found something else to go on with. He went on with it peacefully until a cab arrived, and he looked out, expecting that it was Marianne. It was not, and he had an odd sensation of being glad he was sorry it was not. He saw who the visitor was, and retired. Confound that woman! Why on earth need Charlotte Eldridge come bothering in when Marianne was away? A confirmatory announcement is followed by, "Oh, Mrs. Eldridge!--Did you _tell_ her your mistress wasn't here?" Thus Challis to Harmood, who checks the incorrectness of his speech. "I said Mrs. Challis was not at home, sir. Mrs. Eldridge said she would come in and wait." On which Challis's comment--too much to himself to rank as an answer--is, "She'll have to wait." "Am I to tell her so, sir?" Harmood, docile and well-bred, awaits instructions. "_No!_--don't tell her anything. Perhaps your mistress will be in soon." Challis made a show, for his own satisfaction, of going on with his work--but not for very long. As tea-time drew near, he looked at his watch, and decided not to have tea in the drawing-room with his visitor, but to go out. So, when he looked in on Charlotte for a moment, he was in walking trim, and merely shook hands hurriedly, and said: "Marianne must be in soon. She'll never stay to dine at Tulse Hill. _I_ have to go. Ring the bell for tea, and make Harmood attend to you properly. Ta-ta!" and departed, affecting haste. Mrs. Eldridge was not quite ready for tea, and also hoped Mrs. Challis would reappear shortly. So she postponed summoning the handmaiden, and took Challis's old novel, "The Spendthrift's Legacy," from the bookshelves, wishing to compare the portrait of his first wife, which she knew it contained, with current events. As she speculated over this and that, an unmistakable boy's head--that first wife's boy's--came in at the door, and said "Hullo!" in a very uncompromising way. It was merely greeting--no more! "Well, Master Bob, where have you been? Come in and talk, and shut the door." "Haven't got much time for talk. I say! I wonder if you can hear up here. We've got such a ripping phonograph."