"Bless you, nothing to speak of," said Bob. "I only said you would make ’em sit up presently. They think I know something, and want to bribe me. I say, Pen, if you say nothing for a few days, I believe old Gordon will make me a director. Can you? I want to make money and restore the family property. I say, do." But Pen paid no attention to him. She groaned instead. "Where’s the pain?" asked Bob, anxiously. "Shall I get you some brandy?" "No, no, Bob! I _must_ go in and tell them." "Come on, then," said Bob, eagerly. "I don’t care about the directorship. They’re all white and shaking. I _guess_ they _are_ in a stew." But still Pen did not move, and when Chloe came she sent her away, saying, "In a moment, in a moment!" Then Bob had a brilliant idea. "I say, Pen, I’ll do it!" "Do what?" "I’ll go in and tell ’em you’ve done it. It would be a lark!" But Pen shook her head. "No, I must, I will be brave. If a woman has ideas she must live up to them. I have done good so far. Are they not very much improved, Bob?" "Some, I think," said Bob, carelessly. "But I dare say they’ll go regular muckers now. Come on, Pen, I do want to see their jaws drop." And Pen went with him. She stayed outside the door, and Bob went in first. "She’s coming," said Bob. And Pen entered with her eyes on the floor. Bob took her hand. "Buck up and spit it out," he said, in an encouraging whisper, which was audible in the farthest corner of the room. Some of the horde turned pale; Titania fell back in her chair; Bradstock leant against the wall. Brading put up his eyeglass, and then told Bradstock Pen reminded him of a girl who had once tried to smother him with a pillow. "She had Penelope’s straightforwardness, and never gave in, just like Pen," said Brading, thoughtfully. And now Penelope took hold of her courage, so to speak, and opened her mouth. "S-sh," said Bob, who looked on himself as the master of the ceremonies, "s-sh, I say." And he took hold of Pen’s hand. "I’m so glad to see you here to-night," said the reformer, "for I am so much interested in you all, you see. And you’ve all been so brave." "Hear, hear," said Bob. "So brave in different ways, about balloons and motor-cars and curing yourselves of your weak points," went on Penelope. "That’s what I hoped my influence would do. I said I was only a girl, but even a girl ought to do something, and I knew you all liked me very much, for you all said so, and I said, what can I do for you? And I did my best, and you did yours, I’m sure, for I’ve heard from every one of you all about the others." This made many of them look rather queer, as no doubt it might. "And months ago I said—I said—" "Go ahead, Pen," whispered Bob. "You mean you said you’d marry one of ’em." "I said I’d—marry one of you."