"Come, now, Mary, nobody's going to be any the worse, or any the wiser, for it. We're just using something that would otherwise be wasted--and we'll vanish at the first news that mother's coming back. But, of course, Matilda, we've certainly got to be all-fired careful. I'll leave the house only in the early mornings--by the back way--through Washington Mews--either when the coast is clear or there's a crowd. There are so many artists and chauffeurs and stablemen coming and going through the Mews that I'm sure I can manage it without being noticed. And I'll come back in the same way; and our food I'll smuggle in of nights." "And I, Matilda, I shall not mind staying in at all," bubbled the Mary person. "It will give me a splendid chance to practice. You see, I hope to go on a concert tour this fall." "By the way, Matilda, about the row Mary'll be making on the piano. Couldn't you just casually mention to anybody you see that mother had bought one of these sixty-horse-power, steam-hammer piano-players and you were the engineer, running it a lot to while away the lonesome months?" "Do you want to intimate, sir," demanded Mary with mock hauteur, "that my playing sounds like a--" "What I want to intimate, madam, is that I'd like to avoid having our happy home raided by the police. Matilda, you could do that, couldn't you--just casually?" "Yes--M--Mr. Jack," mumbled Mrs. De Peyster. "There, everything's settled. We'll go up to our rooms. You wouldn't mind helping us a bit, Matilda?" Mrs. De Peyster had one supreme thought. If they went upstairs, they might run into the other Matilda. The frantic, drowning impulse to put off disaster every possible moment caused her to clutch Jack's arm. "There's--something to eat--in the dining-room. Perhaps you'd like--" "Great idea, Matilda! Lead on." Mrs. De Peyster gave thanks that all the lights but one had been switched off. And fortunately the light from that one shaded bulb was almost lost in the great dining-room. Subconsciously Mrs. De Peyster recalled Matilda's injunction to "be humble," and she let her manner slump--though at that moment she had no particular excess of dignity to discard. Jack sighted the food Matilda had left upon the table. With a swoop he was upon it. "Oh, joy! Squabs! Asparagus!" And he seized a squab by the legs, with a hand that was still bandaged. "Here you are, my dear," tearing off a leg and handing it to Mary, who accepted it gingerly. With much gusto Jack took a bite of bird and a huge bite of bread. "Great little wedding supper, Matilda! Thanks. But I say, Matilda, you haven't yet spoken up about _meine liebe Frau_. Don't you think she'll do?" "Now, Jack dear, don't be a fool!" "Mrs. Jack de Peyster, I'll have you understand your husband can't be a fool! Come now, Matilda,--my bonny bride, look at her. Better lift your veil."