“It wasn’t really anything worth telling,” she said, “only that, instead of standing on something to make myself taller as I ought to have done, I tried to tilt the jar over into my hand, and while doing so the stopper flew out. The jar was full of black powder, and before I could help myself I had most of it in my face and over my hair. You never saw anything so awful as I looked. Brushing it off left long black streaks in all directions, and the taste on my lips was filthy; the three people waiting for their medicine nearly had convulsions, and the doctor came out to see what was the matter.” “Oh, how delicious!” cried Gwen in enjoyment. “Whatever did he say?” while Doreen, laughing heartily, gasped: “Oh, Paddy, you must have looked piebald!” “Goodness only knows what I did look like,” she said. “I thought the doctor was going to faint. I tried to explain, but I was laughing so myself, and meanwhile getting such horrid tastes of the wretched stuff, that I couldn’t frame a sensible sentence. Finally, he grasped the situation for himself, and stayed to get on with the dispensing, while I went to try and get my face clean.” While they were still laughing, she got up to go. “I’m coming to call on you if I may?” said Gwen as they shook hands. Paddy looked doubtful. “It’s rather an awful place to come to,” she explained, “the ugliest part of Shepherd’s Bush. You’d never find it.” “Oh, yes, I will. I’ll have a taxi, and refuse to get out until he stops at your door. He’ll find it after a time.” “I’m only a visitor at my uncle’s now, though,” she continued in the same doubtful voice, “and—well, to tell you the honest truth, my aunt is rather tedious. She’s quite sure to help me entertain you, and she’ll give you a detailed history of every church work in the parish, from its earliest infancy.” “I know!” cried Gwen with a sudden idea. “We’ll go to the surgery, Doreen. We’ll hunt up some old prescriptions, and pretend we’re poor people come for medicine. Yes, that will be much better fun! I’ve never seen a dispensary, and I’d love to poke about in all the drawers and bottles,” to which Doreen agreed readily and Paddy turned, to the door. Lawrence followed her. “Shall I get my head bitten off if I venture to escort you to the hall?” he asked, so that she alone could hear. “I would not trouble you for the world,” she replied frigidly, and offered her hand. Lawrence looked into her eyes, and something like a flash of sword-play passed between them. “All the same,” he remarked, coolly, “I am going to send you home in a hansom, and see you into it myself.” Paddy saw it was useless to object there and did not want to make a scene, so went stiffly downstairs. In the hall the lordly James stood waiting. “Call a hansom,” said Lawrence briefly. “Not for me,” said Paddy, with her nose in the air. “I am going in a ’bus.”